


Lessons in Teaching

by dbzkink



Category: Dragon Ball
Genre: Alien Cultural Differences, Alien Culture, Alien/Human Relationships, Angst and Feels, Awkward Flirting, Awkward Romance, Backstory, Blow Jobs, Bulma is a helper, Cunnilingus, Eventual Sex, Eventual Smut, F/M, First Kiss, First Time, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Interspecies Awkwardness, Lemon, Sad Vegeta (Dragon Ball), Shameless Smut, Slow Burn, Smut, Supportive Bulma, Three Year Gap (Dragon Ball), Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Vegebul, Vegeta (Dragon Ball) is Bad at Feelings, Vegeta vs emotions, because she can tell he needs help
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-11
Updated: 2021-02-26
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:09:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 56,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26395432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dbzkink/pseuds/dbzkink
Summary: Vegeta knows he wants Bulma, but he's still baffled by almost everything about Earth. His pride makes it almost impossible for him to ask her questions or tell her how he feels. Bulma is a genius though...
Relationships: Bulma Briefs/Vegeta
Comments: 566
Kudos: 500





	1. The Beginning of a Long List

**Author's Note:**

> I have no idea yet how long this will be. There is graphic sex ahead, so if you don't want smut, this isn't your read. Otherwise, enjoy! Thanks for reading! Comments and kudos are always appreciated.

“I swear to Kami, Vegeta, if I have to teach you how to use the new system again, _I_ will go super-Saiyan,” the woman grumbled as she moved toward the GR console. Vegeta hated that fucking thing. The mechanisms on all Saiyan space tech, co-opted by Frieza, had been managed through scouters for the most part, but there was no “coding” necessary, no typing. It was primitive. He hated it. But he knew how it worked.

Vegeta wanted to be able to interact with the blue-haired beauty without pretense, but courtship on this planet was incomprehensible. It all seemed to be predicated on a thinly veiled whoring system of exchanging currency for food, food for sex and/or mating privileges. Vegeta, despite his wealth, couldn’t exchange currency for anything on this fucking backwater because not a single establishment he’d been to had currency transfer stations. 

Every other fucking system he’d been to in order to engage in commerce had joined the intergalactic currency exchange. Which meant he could spend his money anywhere. Anywhere except the one fucking planet he’d ended up stranded on without a fucking ship. Without a fucking fleck to his name. It infuriated him. Left him helpless and unmanned, in poverty despite being wealthy. Dependent on the woman angrily typing before him.

It wasn’t just the fucking divine smelling woman, either. Everything. Everything on the planet required currency. You weren’t allowed to kill anyone for any reason, everything was done with the exchange of _currency_. Not that Vegeta cared whether killing was permissible, but once he started the killing, where would it end? He’d just murder his way through the whole lot of these weakling humans and then he’d be trapped _alone_ on this awful salt-water riddled excuse for a planet. At least it was beautiful.

And so was the woman bent over the computer screen, her squeezable ass thrust out on display so perfectly. She sighed and said, “Vegeta? Did you hear me?”

“No. What?”

“Vegeta, there is no point in me teaching you anything if you don’t fucking listen to me,” she said, glancing over her shoulder.

“I was listening! You’re a terrible teacher!” Vegeta growled. _Smooth, Vegeta, excellent_. No currency, no decency, and a slew of insults. His fucking ego. Nothing had ever done Vegeta more harm that his own fucking pride.

“Oh yeah? I’d like to see _you_ teach anyone anything!” she snapped back. Gods, it almost made him shiver how unafraid she was. The way she got in his face. The way she poked him in the chest even though he could incinerate her without even thinking about it. What could he do to capture this woman’s attention? To hold it?

He smirked. She left an opening for him. Maybe there were other ways of courting on this saline-soaked pile of rocks orbiting a dying star. “Oh? Is that a challenge, woman? Name anything I can do that you can’t, and I vow I can teach you.”

Vegeta’s pupils widened as the smell of her arousal hit him. It took all his will not to shove his face in between her legs just to smell it more, smell it closer. He stifled a groan. Did she know she smelled so lovely? Did she purposely dress the way she did so he could take in more of her scent? As if her lush body and beautiful face weren’t enough to bring the Prince of All Saiyans to his knees, that scent. Her scent. Good gods. He needed to hold his breath or he’d get hard.

He tapped his toe and said, “I’m waiting. Name the skill and we can decide on a time.”

A little skitter of worry ran up his spine when she smirked back. She strutted toward him, leaned so close to his face he both hoped and feared she was going to kiss him. He could smell the coffee on her breath, the toothpaste above it, then beneath it all, the perfect base, the smell of the way her mouth would taste if he met it and slipped his tongue alongside hers.

She walked her fingers up the front of his breastplate and over his chin and lips and she…she booped his nose. Vegeta gritted his teeth and made to chastise her, but she pressed her finger to his lips. The vixen was absolutely fearless. It was magnificent. He wanted to fuck her senseless.

“Teach me to fly, bad man,” she purred, “You’ve got one week. We start tonight, when you’re done training.”

Vegeta meant to have a snappy retort, but this request left him sputtering, “You…that…I…but…”

“Ha! Not so cocky now, are you, Vegeta? You want to take your snide comment back and just admit that sometimes the _student_ matters with the lesson? That not everyone can be taught because some people are just too _incapable_?” she said, her beautiful turquoise eyes glittering with mirth. 

“No. It’s just that you’re so weak it might take me a bit longer than a week to get your chi up to snuff to be able to get you off the ground. Tonight? After dinner?” Vegeta said, swallowing his dismay that he had signed up for this impossible task. Would it disappoint her? Did she want to fly? Or was it possible she wanted what he wanted: to spend time together outside meals with her parents or bickering during his training when equipment broke?

The woman’s chest rose and fell faster as she said, “I could bring food up to your balcony and we could have a little picnic first, if you want. It’s been so nice out in the evenings.”

Vegeta’s eyes widened. Caught off guard again. “Oh, I, yes, very well. If…if you…I…If it’s not too much trouble,” Vegeta said lamely. No wonder he couldn’t court the woman, he was a fucking imbecile.

But she looked delighted by his response. She said, “I fixed the bot program, so all you have to do is hit ‘enter’ and they’ll start, okay?”

“Yes, that I can manage,” he said with a smirk. She left him and Vegeta struggled to focus the rest of the day.

* * *

Near the top of the extremely long list of things that Vegeta hated about Earth and human culture was clothing. Everyone on Vegeta-sei had worn pretty much the same thing with variations in length and color to some extent, and the occasional wild dresser, like Raditz with his fucking arm and thigh bands, but all the same utilitarian fabric. All well-fitted. Different armor denoted class. Capes reserved for nobility and royalty.

Frieza made dressing even simpler: battle suit, armor. Of course there was still a bit of frippery every now and again, but it was perfectly acceptable to just wear the same style over and over again. How he fucking _dressed_ had never effected Vegeta’s chances of getting laid. Only what was underneath one’s clothes. 

But here he stood, freshly showered, in an enormous closet filled with ridiculous clothing options to be combined in bewildering ways to lure in potential sexual partners. Vegeta very, very secretly enjoyed human forms of entertainment—books and movies and television shows and music and dance. Never had such complete frivolity ever occurred to him as a thing a society would produce. He devoured Earth entertainment, complaining outwardly so his lessers didn’t think he was on their level, but if he had learned nothing else from the dramatic romances, it was that apparel sent all sorts of unspoken signals. 

Unfortunately, he had yet to decode which items meant which things, because even that seemed to vary depending upon context. It was no wonder human technology was so far behind Saiyan tech—they spent all their time developing complex, indecipherable dress codes. Vegeta held his chin and thought. 

Men did not wear gloves typically, in the modern era, which made Vegeta cringe a little, but one did what one had to do sometimes. They seemed to show a different level of class with buttons on their shirts. He pawed through the myriad shirts, different fabrics, colors, cuts, so many with buttons!

“Fuck!” he snarled. He hated feeling this incompetent. He’d traveled the godsdamned universe, trained to rule an entire race of people, spoke more languages than he could count, but he didn’t know how to fucking dress for dinner? It was shameful.

“Vegeta?” the woman said.

Vegeta’s cheeks flamed red, she was _in_ his closet with him. He whirled, his eyes wide. He thanked all the gods that he still had a towel around his waist because he was certain that otherwise just her gaze on his cock would have made him hard. Vegeta, ridiculously, had a brief moment of fear that he would cry he was so powerfully ashamed. He swallowed it and growled, “What are you doing in here?!”

“What are you doing? I’ve been waiting like ten minutes. I heard you curse, so I came to see if you’d hurt yourself.”

“How could I possibly hurt myself in the closet?”

The woman giggled and said, “By thinking too hard?” She flicked through three shirts and grabbed one. She glanced through the shorts and chose a pair seemingly at random. She pulled a pair of the obnoxious flipper-flapper foot things off a low shelf. It was clear she was bent on humiliating him. They were horrible to walk in and they made their onomatopoeia noise: _flip-flap, flip-flap._ They made him sound like an injured duck.

Adding further insult to this humiliating situation, she went in the drawers. That was where the “undergarments” were. Vegeta would not deign to wear some sort of adult diaper. If the day ever came when he needed such nonsense, he would just explode and be done. She pulled out a pair that were essentially a shorter pair of training shorts but with a dick hole. Vegeta willed himself to die rather than endure this.

“I guess human clothing is pretty overwhelming when you’ve lived your whole life in a uniform, huh?” she said.

Vegeta opened his eyes. He searched her fathomless turquoise ones. There was no sarcasm or cruelty. Only empathy. Only questioning. He lowered his eyes, ashamed of his ignorance even with her kindness, and said, “Yes. It is.”

She squeezed his forearm and said, “I don’t care what you wear, Vegeta, but I can help you if you want help. I don’t mind. I like picking out clothes.”

“I’m not a child,” he said, barely audible.

“I know that, but you are really out of your depth here. Like if I was in a Frieza Force mess hall, would you help me pick out my food?”

“Yes, some of it is inedible for humanoid, single-stomach species,” he said and met her eyes again.

“Does that make me a child?”

“No, I suppose not.”

“Good. Get dressed. I’ll see you on the balcony. Unless you want me to help you put your clothes on?” she said with a wink.

Winking. Another Earthling tic. Did…did it mean something? Did she _want_ to help him get dressed? That was the opposite of what he wanted. He wanted her to help him get undressed. She was gone, so it didn’t matter. He was left with a neat little pile of garments. He left the undergarments, no need to adhere to their hidden nonsense in order to assimilate. The woman wouldn’t know that he’d refused one of her clothing picks.


	2. The Picnic

Vegeta’s lifelong training to keep his heart-rate low at all times seemed useless as he stepped out onto his balcony. In his closet he’d been so startled by her, he hadn’t gotten a good look at the woman. He expected her to be wearing the same thing she wore earlier—a skimpy tank top and skimpy shorts. Hard enough to maintain any sort of sanity when she was dressed that way. The skimpy shorts hardly shielded him from her scent at all.

But tonight she wore the human contrivance called a dress. Her scent flooded out from her like a beacon. Vegeta closed his eyes with pleasure upon smelling her so close, so bare. It was as short as her shorts, showing off those curvy, smooth legs of hers, but it was _open_. There was nothing between her legs. In his inhalation of Earth entertainment, he noted that almost without exception, it was women who wore dresses (there was one tribe of men that seemed to favor the half version, called a skirt, but the men gave it a different name that he couldn’t remember). Vegeta naturally assumed the reason women wore them was to make mating easier, or at least spontaneous sex.

Unfortunately it wasn’t the sort of question he could put to the woman he constantly fantasized about fucking, so he was left to speculate about the purpose of this type of attire. The woman’s dress was a pale green, scattered with the lovely white flowers Vegeta had at last discovered the name of: gardenias. The color looked beautiful against her creamy skin and with her silky blue tresses. The dress was a light, floaty fabric that danced around her when she moved. It clung to her in all the right places. Little strings were all it had for straps, crossed prettily in the back, displaying the line of her spine that he found so appealing. The woman would have devastated him if she’d had a tail. 

She wasn’t wearing one of the bizarre breast holsters that Earthling women kept their tits confined in underneath their clothes. Again Vegeta had been left with many questions because it seemed inappropriate to ask the woman why she added a layer of difficulty to both dressing and undressing with a contraption whose only utility seemed to be pleasing the gaze of sexual contenders. Why would the potential mates not want to see the breasts themselves? Vegeta stifled a grunt of pleasure that she chose not to encase her lovely breasts tonight. He could appreciate how shapely they were under the flimsy fabric.

“Vegeta?”

“What? Damnit. I...What?”

“I asked if you want some wine?”

“What? I wasn’t whining,” he said, frowning.

“No, Vegeta, the beverage. Do Saiyans not have wine?”

“I don’t know, what is it?” he said trying to level his voice. It was so humiliating being constantly ignorant that he found it hard to be civil. At every turn there was some thing that was entirely different. Earth had maintained its isolation so wholly. Every other system he’d been in had been fairly unsurprising because they all traded with one another and used the same currency and in general ended up more homogenous than he’d realized until he ended up on this mud ball with all its outlandish nonsense.

She held out a half circle of glass on a delicate glass pedestal. There was a few centimeters of a blood-looking liquid, but thinner. “Here, try it. It’s fermented grapes,” she said.

“Dear gods, to what end?” he asked and sniffed it. It smelled surprisingly complex for rotted fruit. “Oh, for alcohol. Interesting,” he answered his own question and took a hesitant sip. It tasted worse than some sources of ethanol he’d had, but it tasted better than many, so he shrugged. “Why not? These are odd containers, they seem very fragile.”

“They are. They’re specifically for red wine so it can breathe. You’re supposed to let it get a little air before you drink it,” she said, pouring herself an equally absurdly small amount, “I never actually do that, because I just start drinking. But I’m not a wine snob, just a wine drinker.”

“What is a wine snob?” he asked and immediately regretted exposing more of his ignorance.

“They’re assholes that get all uppity about wine and the different ‘noses’ and ‘notes,’ that are all just fancy ways of talking about smells and tastes. I bet you would be an amazing wine snob with your sense of smell.”

Vegeta furrowed his brow and scowled. Had she just called him an asshole? He was, of course, but still, it didn’t bode well for his far-fetched dream of getting laid. Despondency settled over Vegeta that he might very well never get laid again in his entire life. He wanted to die.

“Why are you frowning? That was a compliment.”

He cocked his head to the side and said, “It was?”

“Your sense of smell is incredible. Like, makes me nervous incredible. I’m always afraid you’ll smell what I’ve eaten days earlier or the days when I skip showering or—“

“I like the days you skip showering. Your natural aroma is much more pleasant than that overpowering fake-fruit nonsense you coat yourself with,” Vegeta said, flaring a nostril, as she was currently covered head to toe in the “lotion,” as she called the abomination. He realized too late that now she had paid him a compliment and he paid her back by insulting her toilette. Good gods, he was terrible at literally everything but killing. He needed a ship so he could plead for the Frieza Force to take him back and return him to his only skill: slaughter.

She smacked his shoulder with absolutely no force. He hadn’t deciphered the meaning of these blows that had no effect and weren’t intended to start a battle. It seemed to indicate some sort of understanding, or camaraderie, but Vegeta felt certain that swatting her back was not the right response. He wished with all his soul to know what the proper response was. 

Her eyes sparkled over her wine as she took a sip. She said, “That’s sweet.”

“It is? It tastes very sour to me, with a dry, woody taste underneath, like some kind of tree. A bit of blackberry and apricot too,” Vegeta said, taking another swallow of the less-vile-than-he-originally-thought liquid. “Saiyans do not seem to have the same sugar receptors that Earthlings have on their tongues.”

The woman giggled and said, “See, you’re a great wine snob already. But I meant that _you_ are sweet for saying I smell nice.”

“You haven’t tasted me, how could you possibly know that?” Vegeta said, perplexed, but his mind ran wild with the image of her tasting him.

“Silly man, it’s an expression that means you’re nice,” she said and smiled at him.

Vegeta was not _nice_. How upsetting that she thought he was _nice_. But then he absorbed the fact that she seemed to think he had complimented her smell, so he tried to steer their talk in a different direction. “Is this the only form of alcohol Earthlings imbibe?”

“Oh, no, definitely not. We drink anything we can turn into alcohol. Some people ferment milk and drink it. It’s not for me, but it shows the human ingenuity in their desire to have booze.”

Vegeta considered fermented milk. He had grown to love the rotten dairy product they called “cheese” even though the very idea of eating another animal’s lactation revolted him at first. Now he wasn’t sure what he would do if he left Earth and no longer had access to cheese.

As if the woman heard his thoughts, she produced a whole board of different cheeses. He wanted to weep and kiss her and fuck her and love her and take care of her, but instead he said nothing. This “picnic,” as she called it, was also outside Vegeta’s etiquette knowledge. It shamed him that he had nothing to offer. He wished he could bring her some of the delicacies he’d encountered in other systems.

Maybe he could, in a manner of speaking. He said, feeling a little foolish for babbling about trivial shit, but the woman seemed happy sometimes when he told her pointless anecdotes, “I confess I found the…premise…of cheese to be categorically disgusting when I first arrived, but it’s all delicious. On one planet that we cleaned and traded, they made this dessert that was incredible. It had the most unique texture and the flavor was so subtle and sublime, and it was the color of those bioluminescent bacteria you see here, in the ocean, at times. I gorged myself, Raditz and Nappa ate it until they puked. Then we discovered what it was made from.”

The woman’s eyes were wide and eager. She smiled and handed him a piece of cheese on one of the miniature pieces of stale bread they called “crackers.” She rotated her hand in a circle. “Well? What was it?”

“It was made from the eyes of these giant, repulsive aquatic insects. It’s not that I haven’t eaten plenty of insects, because I have. I’ve eaten everything, but these things, oh gods, they came up on land at night to hunt, and they smelled like the foulest fecal matter you can even imagine, but on fire. They were revolting. We couldn’t stomach them. But the eyes, apparently, were filled with this gel that they turned into the dessert. So you never can tell what might make a good food when properly transformed.”

Vegeta thought maybe, for once, in however long he’d been on this miserable planet, he had managed not to fuck up an interaction with the woman. Her eyes were so happy. She smiled and said, “Holy shit! Did you eat more, even after you knew?”

“It was so good we all packed our pods full of it to eat later. _Yree’eguov,_ they called it. I can’t remember the name of the planet, or the people we removed, or even which system it was in.” 

He stopped yammering and ate his cheese, which was rather nice with the wine beverage. He could have done without the cracker, but Vegeta was always starving on Earth, so he ate whatever was offered. With their sluggish metabolisms, the humans ate so little that Vegeta was left to forage or ask for extra food, which would shame him into an early grave. So he ate quite a lot of Earth animals, most of which were palatable enough. He steered clear of the types the humans had domesticated, since particularly in entertainment there seemed to be a gray area rather than a line between livestock and pets. He didn’t care for Earth insects, the ratio of chitin to calories was simply too high. He assumed that eating humans themselves would be frowned upon, which was too bad. There were plenty of them.

The woman laughed and said, “Can’t remember who you massacred, but you remember the food. Classic Saiyan.”

Vegeta laughed too. It felt so good to laugh. He only ever laughed with humor and happiness with the woman. He derisively laughed at his lessers on a fairly regular basis, but it was less satisfying than this. She popped a piece of cheese in her mouth and chewed, still smirking at him with a soft snickering laugh. “I love hearing your stories from out there,” she said after swallowing and she waved her arm at the rapidly darkening sky. “When I was a little girl, I always thought I’d spend my whole life out there. I don’t know why or what I thought I’d do. Going to Namek was amazing, but it made me miss home. Do you miss space? Like, are you homesick for…for wherever you lived?” 

Her eyes searched his. He was surprised by how…caring…the question sounded. Not that he thought she disliked him. The woman went out of her way to do things for him even though he was a complete piece of shit most of the time. But there was little he had to offer her besides his body and his embittered, dark soul, or what was left of it. He found the question almost upsetting for the realization it made him have.

He said, “I…Since I was six…I’ve never _lived_ anywhere. This. Here. This is the longest I’ve been anywhere since I was a child. At times I miss the solace of my pod. The void of space. It helped me keep things in perspective. How little I am. How meaningless. No matter what I do.” Vegeta ate another mini sandwich as she handed it to him. He downed the rest of the wine. 

She refilled his glass, scrutinizing him. “I don’t think you’re meaningless.”

“Well, you’ve never been beyond this galaxy. There is nothing out there in a way you can’t even imagine. The void. I…at times…at times I could be at peace there. It’s the only thing I even know to miss.”


	3. Vulnerabilities

Vegeta cringed. Pity rolled off her like potent nerve toxin. He wished he’d kept his mouth shut. Gods. Humans and their fucking feelings. He didn’t want pity. He only wanted her to know that nothing about his life mattered, that she could take his life in her hands and do as she saw fit; use him up and throw him away; and it would be better than anything he’d hoped for. Anything he’d known. She would be more likely to try him out if she understood that he was disposable. Everyone was, of course, but there were tiers to it and he was well below her. 

She handed him more cheese and crackers and he sneaked pieces of plain cheese while she contemplated what he’d said. She stared up at the stars. “If I build you a ship, will you leave?”

Her question took Vegeta entirely by surprise. He watched her. He enjoyed staring at her while she was oblivious to him, looking at the supple line of her throat, that place he imagined kissing, down to where it met her collarbone, nipping that delicate tendon just enough to make her gasp not to make her bleed. When she lowered her turquoise gaze, still so vivid even with only light pollution and starlight, he met it, held it. He was curious what motivated her question. Did she want him to leave? Did she feel sorry for him and think he would be happier out there? Vegeta likely wouldn’t be happy anywhere. It wasn’t in his nature.

“I don’t miss the void enough for that. And I don’t think Earth has the tech for intergalactic travel anyway. I should have paid more attention to the engineers, but I didn’t. I could only do basic repairs on my ship, not build it from scratch.”

“But if you could—if you could escape Earth—would you? Hypothetically,” she asked sitting up. Her eyes ate him alive and he always feared she would see the fear he buried so deep. The fear that he would never feel anything more keenly than the peace and oblivion of being in the vast emptiness of intergalactic space. The fear that he _would_ feel something stronger, the fear he felt because he already did. For her. For this beautiful woman asking him this enigmatic question.

“I don’t know. There’s nothing for me out there. My planet is gone. My people are dead. I’m a pariah from the Frieza Force. There’s…well…all that awaits me out there is more nothingness.” 

Vegeta, for once, lost his appetite. He was foolish to believe that this woman wanted to spend more time with him. She only wanted to investigate how hard she should be working on the spaceship so she could be rid of him. Maybe she was sick of working on the spaceship. She was brilliant, but she had a tendency to move on from unfinished projects when they no longer held her interest. Was Vegeta’s ship that way? Was _Vegeta_ that way? Had he only been an amusing project for the past three years?

“Did you ever have anyone, you know, who cared about you? Out there?” she said, briefly glancing at him and then looking up at the stars again.

Vegeta laughed, releasing some of his tension. “No one cares about anyone out there, woman.” She refilled his wine glass again. He should have determined how alcoholic it was before continuing to imbibe, but he didn’t care. Maybe he’d get lucky and drink himself to death, spare her his bungled attempts at closeness. At what passed for love in Vegeta’s desiccated soul.

“Really? Like no one dates in space?” she asked, her gaze snapping to him. Her eyes narrowed skeptically. “I have to believe people at least have sex in space, right? Don’t all species like sex? Or at least feel biologically driven to have it?”

Vegeta’s face burned. Even hearing the woman say the word “sex” made him ache to show her just how much sex people in space had. He gave her a lascivious smirk and purred, “Vulgar woman. I don’t know what ‘dating’ is, so I can’t properly say whether spacefaring peoples engage in it. But sex, yes, of course. Plenty of it. Sex is one of the few leisure activities that almost anyone, anywhere, can enjoy, rich and poor, all ages, past physical maturity, obviously, male, female, and every other gender out there. Sex is space’s main diversion and its great equalizer because everyone wants it.”

She giggled and this time her bizarre socializing shoulder-blow lingered, her hand squeezing the muscle there as she shook with laughter. “Are you serious?” she wheezed out and the pads of her fingers brushed the skin of his bicep as she removed her hand from him. The touch made him hungry again, and not just for food.

He downed as much cheese as he could without the dry, flavorless crackers, and said, “Of course I’m serious. What else could people do when time is short? Languages exist by the thousands so communication can be challenging. No one out there does any of the type of things that Earthlings do for entertainment. There’s fucking, eating, and killing. Gambling sometimes, I suppose that’s a form of diversion.”

She shifted to sit on her ass with her legs butterflied and crossed, pushing the cloth of her dress to cover her crotch. But it didn’t cover the wave of scent that rippled out from her as she moved. Vegeta felt his tail scar tingle upon smelling that the woman was aroused. Intriguing. Perhaps just talking about sex excited her.

The woman said, “So have _you_ had sex with other species? Or just Saiyans?”

“Both,” Vegeta said with a little snort of laughter, “Or rather, I’ve had sex with a single Saiyan—not a lot of us left—and a whole lot of other species.”

“Oh my gods, Vegeta, were you just a complete space slut?” the woman asked, her smile broad and her eyes sparkling with delight.

Perhaps she assumed he was sexually naïve and thus had no interest in fucking him, but finding out he’d been with other species made her feel more sure of his ability to couple well? How bizarre. Vegeta wondered if there were sexually mature humans who didn’t enjoy sex as a pastime.

Carefully now, feeling like maybe he found a route to get between her legs, or even to gain her affection, he said, “I don’t know what a slut is,” though he hated admitting more ignorance. Better than saying something stupid.

The woman’s eyes crawled over him, took in his body for what felt like the first time. “You’re not _actually_ a slut, Vegeta. It’s a pejorative for people, women especially, that have a lot of sexual partners.”

Vegeta flared a nostril in confused horror, his lip pulling up on one side. He spluttered, “But…why…why would that be a pejorative? Doesn’t it demonstrate the sexual prowess of the person deemed a ‘slut?’ Do humans not enjoy skill in their sexual partners?”

The woman’s smile, which Vegeta didn’t think could get any wider, managed somehow, and she laughed more which made him happy. That had never really happened before, someone else’s pleasure making him happy, outside of sex. He liked it. It felt nice to amuse her this way. When she stopped laughing, she said, “Well…sex amongst humans has lots of weird…baggage. So for women, especially, having lots of partners is considered bad.”

“That’s absurd. How can you properly select a mate if you don’t try different partners?”

“A mate?”

“Like your parents. Are they not a mated pair?”

“Oh! Yeah, you mean married.”

“Is there no physical bond between them? No claim? Is it merely a legal arrangement?” Vegeta was aghast, but tried to hide it. What if humans didn’t pair-bond at all? What if they refused to be claimed? Vegeta couldn’t bear the thought of the woman being tied to him only by a legal contract (then reprimanded himself for how far ahead of himself he was getting). His mouth watered with the urge to claim her, mark her as his, but he would never force such a thing. He missed his tail. Without his tail the early stages of courtship felt empty and difficult. Unsatisfying.

The woman said, “Well…they love each other. They certainly, um, share a physical relationship. Is that what you mean?”

Vegeta needed to stop this conversation. He snuffed out his hope for truly mating with the woman. “Never mind. I suppose if I’m going to teach you to fly we’d better get started.”

She wiggled her glass of wine in front of him. “I want to finish my wine. You’re just trying to get out of talking to me. You always do that. You start to freak out and I never know why and I wish you’d just tell me,” she said and leaned back to brace herself on her free hand. It thrust her breasts up beautifully. Gods he wanted her so badly, but she seemed to view his change of subject as negative.

“I don’t ‘freak out!’ Wait, what does that mean?” he asked, trying to stop himself from staring at her nipples where they strained against the thin fabric of her dress.

“It means you get uncomfortable and avoid actually talking to me. You opened up earlier, when you told me about the void. You don’t have to tell me about all your hot alien affairs if you don't want to tell me. I was just surprised you’ve had a lot of partners,” she said and took a sip of her wine.

Vegeta scowled and snarled, “Why are you surprised? Do you think I’m weak? Or impotent? Or—“

The vixen interrupted him and he considered screaming, “No, Vegeta, you ridiculous man, you’re obviously not weak and I assume you’re not impotent. You’re just…reticent. Guarded. Wary. It’s strange to think of you having sex because those things seem…challenging…in the bedroom.”

“Where?”

“In the bedroom.”

“It’s true, they do cause difficulty sleeping at times, but I don’t see how that’s relevant.”

“No, I mean sex. I can see it being hard to enjoy sex if you’re on guard constantly and waiting for someone to hurt you.”

“Very few partners have ever hurt me, I’m quite powerful, even on the universal scale.”

“Vegeta, sometimes I can’t tell if you’re deliberately misunderstanding me or if our cultures are just that different. I mean hurt your heart.”

Vegeta’s eyes widened and his brow furrowed, “Do…do…do humans use their _hearts_ for sex somehow?”

“Okay, so not deliberate, just obtuse. No. Calm down, you’re going to flutter my dress up with your chi floof.”

“Floof?”

“Shush. Just listen to me for a minute without being an alien—“

“I _am_ an alien—“

“Shush!” she commanded and pressed her finger to his lips as she had earlier in the day. He wanted to suck it into his mouth. To taste her. Gods, even with her infuriating lotion she smelled lovely. 

“Vegeta. Humans do not have sex with our hearts. It’s a metaphor for feelings, like feeling good about the person you want to have sex with. For feelings to be mutual there has to be a certain level of…vulnerability…you know? But maybe alien sex is more animalistic than human sex. I just assumed that if you did it for fun that it would be…fun. You seem to struggle with…fun,” she said the last part very slowly.

When she pulled her finger away from his lips, she leaned forward and he had another excited moment when he thought she might kiss him. But she just refilled his wine.

“I—It—That type of thing isn’t necessary for sex. Humans have much more elaborate social customs than most aliens I’ve encountered, and certainly more complicated than any species I’ve fucked. It’s maddening. It’s not like this in space. You just express your attraction and they either agree or don’t. Occasionally there is flirtation as in your Earth entertainment, but when living a nomadic life, there’s no time for true courtship, in general. No time for anything, really.”

“So you never had a girlfriend? Or a boyfriend? Do you have sex with both?” she said.

“Yes, I fucked whoever I was attracted to, but Earthlings seem to have strict rules about that too. Is a boyfriend or girlfriend…is that when you are…trying out…a potential mate?” he asked, grinding his teeth in fury that he had yet again exposed his lack of knowledge. Stupid isolated planet with its beautiful landscapes and one perfect, beautiful, blue-haired woman.

“Yeah, basically. It’s someone you like, but have sexual relations with too, and sometimes it leads to, um, being a mated pair. Did you ever have that, or something like it?”

“Not exactly,” he answered, feeling the horrifying sting of tears.

“What does that mean?” the woman asked.

Vegeta didn’t want to think of his past. Of the closest thing he’d felt to love. The shame he felt for feeling something so weak. The shame of who’d caused him to feel such a thing. 

Vegeta mustered a smirk and said, “It doesn’t matter. Shall I teach you to fly, woman? Or have you changed your mind?” He stood up and extended his hand to help to her feet. The act of helping people to their feet seemed to be widely regarded as positive on Earth, whereas Vegeta would sooner die than allow someone to know he needed or wanted such a thing. 

The woman took his hand and he enjoyed that her hands were calloused too, rough from always working with them. He loved how capable she was. She stared into his eyes and held his hand a moment after she stood. His heart thundered and he swallowed hard, always afraid of what she would see if she looked hard enough. 

She whispered, “There’s no shame in loving someone, Vegeta. I’m sorry you lost whoever it was. If you ever want to talk to me about it, you can, but I understand if it’s too painful.”

Vegeta’s throat tightened and he clenched his teeth to stifle the way everything tried to burble up in him. He wanted so badly to take solace in the woman. He wondered what she would do if he told her, undoubtedly crying like a weakling child, and let her see that he wasn’t strong. Hadn’t she said something about vulnerability being part of sexual culture on Earth? He searched her eyes more. But the thought of opening himself up that way made him recoil back inside the shell he’d cultivated over the years. So he only said, “Come, first I’ll have to teach you to direct your chi.”


	4. In Vino Veritas

Vegeta noted with some concern that his head swam as he stood. The ground shifted beneath his feet. He floated up a few inches and that made things significantly worse. Everything swirled around, but was somehow stationary. He turned away from the woman and took an experimental step on the treacherous ground. His sloppy coordination made it a struggle. Had the woman poisoned him?

Fuck. The wine. The alcohol. The woman bamboozled him so thoroughly with her impertinent questioning that he had no idea how much he’d had to drink. He blinked to clear his bleary vision. Even his sense of smell was blunted. He mentally paged back through the meal. Dear gods, he drank the whole bottle except the piddling amount she drank in order to trick him. Why would she do this to him? Was she so concerned with proving his inability to teach her to fly that she would hamper him this way?

Vegeta never tolerated alcohol well. After a few unfortunate learning experiences, he never drank again. Especially since his obvious drinking companions, Raditz and Nappa, were double his weight, at least. Vegeta’s flamethrower metabolism poured the alcohol into his bloodstream, but his liver was a quarter the size of a human’s. Saiyans’ sense of smell meant they rarely concerned themselves with poisons. The same blast furnace that drove his power and his appetite tended to consume most of the things requiring filtration by human livers. Saiyan livers were one step from being vestigial. As a result, the alcohol lingered, stoked by that metabolic fire. Vegeta was not a large man from a blood volume perspective, so he imagined his blood alcohol content at the moment was absurdly high.

Vegeta willed himself not to stagger, thanking any gods who would listen that he hadn’t toppled onto the woman when he helped her to her feet. The wine was tricky alcohol: he hardly tasted it with all the other nonsense wrapped around it. It also settled like silt until he moved and stirred it up. Vegeta took a deep breath to steady himself. He needed to get rid of the woman, he couldn’t allow her to see him like this.

“Well, teach away, professor. I think it might be challenging to get a human in the air,” the woman said, chuckling in premature triumph.

Vegeta whirled around to glare at her. Fucking ethanol. The world reeled and his mass unmoored from his proprioception. There was a terrifying nanosecond when he thought he would have to either brace himself on the woman or fall, but at the last moment, he managed to muster and coordinate enough chi to push himself into a swaying, but upright, position.

The woman’s face split open in a disbelieving smile. She covered her mouth with her hand and giggled out, “Oh shit! Are you drunk?”

Vegeta tried to think of some snappy retort, as she enjoyed such banter, but without permission, his mouth said, “Fuck. Yes. Very.”

“Oh, Vegeta, I’m sorry. You were chugging your wine, but with the way you eat, I assumed you had good tolerance,” she said, but still snickered at his expense.

“You do not seem at all apologetic. And I had hardly anything to eat!” he protested, his eyes widening in horror first at this admission, and second at the realization that he was far too drunk to hunt effectively. He was fucking starving. Tears of angry hunger threatened. Anything but tears. Vegeta would have to self-destruct if he cried about food in front of the woman. About anything, but especially not food. It shamed Vegeta enough that she had to keep him sheltered and clothed and fed at the basic poverty level rations she supplied.

“You just ate several entire blocks of cheese and a sleeve of crackers,” she said, “Not to mention the wine itself should be filling.”

“That was nine or ten thousand calories. Twelve tops,” Vegeta grumbled, unable to help himself. He forgot that he was an _honest_ drunk. He needed to be an asleep drunk. 

“That’s more than I eat over several days, Vegeta!”

“But…but…” Vegeta’s control was slipping. His desire to mope about how hungry he was blossomed in him. The thoughts she’d provoked with all her absurd talk of love and boyfriends and loss frothed up in his mind. Vegeta’s breaths came in panicked drags. His throat started to close up.

“Hey, come here, sit back down. Sit down, Vegeta, you’re falling apart. I take it drinking isn’t much a part of Saiyan culture. Or space-nomadism,” she said and put her hand under his elbow, touching her skin to the bare flesh on his arm. 

Vegeta hadn’t gotten laid in so long—years—that it was physically painful, so the barest contact, the light touch of her hand on him felt like another drug on top of the alcohol. Her scent, which was so close now, and still, somehow, despite his drunkenness, aroused, was driving him absolutely mad. He shoved her hand off his arm before he did something stupid.

“I’m fine!” he snapped, demonstrating that he was not at all fine. “I…Saiyans…” Fuck, now he was slurring. More panic welled in him…Memories…The last time he’d been drunk like this. He couldn’t think of anything safe to say, his mind was such a confusing jumble. What came out of his mouth was, “I’m so fucking hungry. But too drunk to hunt.”

The woman’s eyes widened. She choked out, “Hunt? What do you hunt?”

“Mostly the large reptilian things, but deer when I’m less hungry. Fish on occasion just for variety. Is that hunting? Do you hunt fish?” Vegeta said and thought too hard before saying, “Fished. I fished for fish. Very redundant. But…my…” Vegeta tried moving with precision and managed to keep his feet, but it was a near thing.

“Vegeta…have you…have you been hungry, like, since you came to live with me?” the woman asked, her eyebrows drawing together.

Vegeta’s shame roared up over the drunken sloppiness. Why had he mentioned the hunger and the hunting? Why couldn’t drunk Vegeta shut the fuck up? He would now. Because he would cry if she took pity on him. He said nothing, but swayed his way over to the edge of his balcony. He could probably catch some of the bottom feeder fish which tended to be slower.

She seized his arm again. “Stop doing this. I hate it when you just ignore me because you have some weird Vegeta-bullshit going on in your brain. How would I know how much a Saiyan eats? I’ve seen Goku eat, of course, but you’re a lot smaller, so I didn’t know you were like him!”

Vegeta gasped in horror. He bit out, “I am _not_ like Kakarot! That…that…that…traitorous clown! Fratricidal motherfucker!”

“Shh…gods, do Saiyans get the munchies with alcohol? I can get you more food. Why the hell didn’t you say something, you stubborn ass?” 

“I can…” Vegeta’s throat tightened again. He couldn’t very well say that he could take care of himself, when that was obviously not the case—he hadn’t even been able to _dress_ himself. What was wrong with him? Why now? Why was he _weepy_ when this was the closest he’d come to any kind of camaraderie with the woman? He swallowed and said, “I…fuck…the…the shame of it!”

He clutched his head in his hands to still the world and bit down hard on his tongue to stop the potential overflow of repulsive _feelings_ that surged in him. He hated Earth. Hated it. Hated everything that had happened that led him here. Except the woman. He couldn’t stand the thought of _not_ having the woman in his life. It was all so confusing. This was why Vegeta hated emotions—they simply didn’t adhere to any logic or pattern.

“Vegeta, gods! You’re bleeding!” the woman cried, but Vegeta was busy clinging to the last of his will not to cry about everything. He took long, heaving breaths to try to stuff all the wretched emotions back down.

The woman pressed something, a cloth, to his chin. “What are you doing?” he slurred. His hands came down to take hers away from his face. A terrible mistake, taking both her hands that way; it was too intimate. Her turquoise eyes were right there, staring into the black tarpit of his soul. He flinched away, dropped her hands, and by the grace of some merciful god, caught himself on the balustrade.

Penned in by her now, she reached up again and dabbed at his chin, holding his shoulder in her other hand. “Stop being an idiot. Have you never been drunk before?”

His breathing hitched. He could answer questions. He could speak. He didn’t need to have a crisis. “I have. I hate it. I…the wine didn’t seem strong enough to do this.”

“Here, open your mouth, did you bite your tongue? Alcohol doesn’t poison Saiyans, does it? You want to sit down?”

“No!” he snapped. He wanted her to stop doing what she was doing.

She looked confused, but stopped fussing over him. The steely look she got whenever they argued morphed her face. That sexy ferocity. “Godsdamnit, Vegeta, you are seriously trying my patience tonight! Sit your fucking ass down and let me have a look at your mouth!”

“What?! No! How am _I_ trying _your_ patience? I’m not the one asking all manner of…of…of _private_ questions!” Vegeta lurched up off the railing into her face. Gods she smelled good. He wanted to taste her everywhere. “Why do you even care? Why do you bother with someone…someone…someone like me?” Vegeta choked out. Fuck. Tears filled his eyes. Fucking alcohol.

“Sit. The. Fuck. Down,” she hissed.

Vegeta toppled onto his ass, completely unprepared, when the woman shoved him down. She dropped to her knees in front of him, seized his jaw, and squeezed painfully on the muscles until he opened his mouth. She poked a finger in his mouth and Vegeta’s eyes bugged out. What was the crazed woman doing?

“You really hurt your tongue! Why did you bite your tongue?” She took her finger out of his mouth, thankfully, before he started sucking on it in a fit of passion, but left her hand on his face.

“To regain myself,” he whispered, staring into her eyes.

“What does that mean? Do you try to be difficult or does it just come naturally to you?” she said with a little half-smile that made him ache to lean forward and kiss it off her face. She released her hold on his jaw.

Some of Vegeta’s tension and fear evaporated as he laughed. He said, “Naturally, I believe.”

“Want to put off flying lessons until you’re not drunk?”

“It hardly seems sporting to incapacitate me just to prove a point,” he grumbled.

“How did _I_ incapacitate you? You’re the one who guzzled a beverage meant for sipping!” she snarled.

Gods, her fierceness was making him hard. Everything about the damned woman made him hard. Drunk Vegeta wondered if now that they had shared a meal privately, if that somehow counted for the weird food-whoring system. A thought occurred: did the reverse work? Could he _gain_ food through sexual favors? Would she accept them from him in exchange for more sustenance? Was the Prince of All Saiyans above whoring himself for food on a planet that seemed to regard it as the norm?

No, one hungry night wasn’t worth that indignity, even if he would love every second of pleasuring her. He hated Earth customs. He wouldn’t lower himself that way. Not to mention the added shame if she rejected his sexual offerings: then he would be both starving and humiliated.

He said, “How was I to know that it was for sipping? And I was sipping!”

Her face softened and she said, “I’m going to go get you some more food. Can you stay put? I’m afraid if you try to fly, you’ll wipe out.”

“Wipe out?” he asked.

“You know, crash. Fall. Hurt yourself.”

“Oh,” he said, his voice small, his earlier sense of hope shattered, and all the sickening emotions returned. “You don’t need to get me more food. I’ll be fine.”

“Why do you do this? I’m happy to get you more food. Where does this…this…pointless resentment come from? I’m trying to fucking help you, you stubborn fucking asshole. I have been trying to help you for three godsdamned years and it is just…just…infuriating at times!” She shoved his shoulder hard.

Vegeta’s mind and reflexes were slow, slogging through all the ethanol. The woman’s pitiful blow caught him off guard and the drink made the world tilt ominously. He yelped, “Fuck!” and tipped backward. The woman had put all her insignificant force into the shove. Vegeta had never given way even a nanometer from her ridiculous attempts at aggression, so the fact that he was going down was clearly unanticipated by the woman, who toppled after him. On top of him. Sprawled beautifully on his chest, her breasts almost spilling out of the flimsy dress onto him.

Vegeta’s eyes widened and hers did too. They stared into one another. An even hotter blaze of desire roared in Vegeta’s body. He wanted to kiss her, to make a sad, drunken attempt to seduce her. He would reveal all his shameful secrets if she would just have sex with him. He needed it. He needed her. He breathed heavily, but the moment passed and she pushed herself up and off him, tucking her hair back behind her ears. She avoided his eyes.

The woman left without another word. Vegeta let out a heaving breath. Once her chi was suitably distant, a strangled noise tore out of Vegeta. His hand flew over his mouth and tears filled his eyes. They escaped down his temples as he remained on his back, staring up at the sky as heavy thunderheads rolled in, blotting out the stars. The ground spun beneath him and he felt nauseous. He wished he hadn’t fucked things up with the woman. He longed to be what she wanted, to give her something in return, for once.

His whole body shook as he let himself go completely. He hadn’t allowed himself this type of shameful catharsis since coming to Earth. It felt volcanic as all his nasty, useless feelings erupted out in the form of saline and pathetic noises. He was grateful when the first smattering of raindrops hit him, hiding his tears, if not the snotty, pitiful noises.

The woman had asked if he was homesick, and Vegeta wasn’t. He couldn’t be, with no home left, but he was…ease-sick. Even in his servitude to that vile asshole, Frieza, Vegeta had long stretches of feeling competent and relatively comfortable in his own skin. He and Raditz and Nappa had fought side by side so long that they were a family, of a kind, comrades, at least, who could just _exist_ without expending any mental energy. The thought of his fallen Saiyan comrades—all the memories that came along with that grief—made a fresh round of sobs burst out of him.

Everything on Earth was so hard and humiliating and his constant confusion wore him down. He hated being dependent for every tiny thing. The androids’ imminent arrival at least gave him some focus, but otherwise his life was purposeless. He supposed it always had been, but it felt worse here.

His drunkenness put him completely at the mercy of his wretched, weak emotions, and the fathomless ache for physical contact wracked his body, expelling more tears. Not just sex—though dear gods, what he wouldn’t give for sex—he missed the press of a body next to his afterwards, or even sometimes without coupling. He longed for hands on his skin and the tactile pleasure of his lover’s flesh under his own palms. He missed the casual touch that most people expected day to day. Vegeta was so alien, literally, to everyone here, that the only person who ever touched him at all was the woman. And those were glancing, brief, ephemeral moments of contact. He would likely weep with joy if she ever forced a hug on him, because his stupid pride would never allow him to ask for one or even to receive one without complaint. The weakness such neediness revealed horrified him. He had a fucking erection just from her falling on top of him. He probably could have come if she’d ground her hips on him a few times. His stomach hurt he was so thoroughly pent up.

“Aw, are you a sad drunk? I thought you might be a sad drunk,” the woman’s voice said, “but I also think you maybe needed a good cry. Come on, let’s get you inside, you poor thing.” The woman knelt beside him.

Vegeta’s heart ceased beating. Or he wished it would. He willed himself to die right there, anything but face the woman now that she’d caught him like this. His eyes were scrunched closed in agonizing embarrassment. Thunder boomed close enough that he felt it more than heard it. If only the lightning had struck him and ended his pitiful existence.


	5. Trying

The woman placed her hand beneath his shoulder and yanked at him, tried to pull him upright. “What the hell are you made of? How are you this heavy?” she grunted, trying again. 

He sat up. Escape was pointless now that she’d seen him in this pitiful state. The world swayed dramatically as he sat up and he gripped the banister next to him to steady himself. He broke it and swore in Saiyan. “I’m fine. I…I…I thought you’d left,” he muttered.

“I did, I told you I was going to get you more food,” she said, and tried to pull him to his feet. “Seriously? Can I run a scan on your body? Your weight defies physics.”

“You can do whatever you wish with me,” drunk Vegeta said and in the deep recesses of his mind, sober Vegeta cringed.

She laughed and said, "Right now I would like to feed you. Come on. Maybe you’ve just been hangry the past three years.”

“What?” he said, stumbling up to his feet, staggering insideto his bedroom.

“Hangry—so hungry that you’re angry,” she said, placing a pointless hand on his lower back, but it thrilled him anyway. Once they were in his room, out of the rain, she said, “Here, come on, get out of this, you’re soaking wet,” and started unbuttoning his shirt.

“Stop doing that, woman,” Vegeta said, and seized both her hands. She looked into his eyes. Vegeta held her hands, he never wanted to let them go.

She whispered, “I…I brought a capsule of food. Will you at least go change so you’re dry? I don’t know if Saiyans can get sick—“

“We can’t. Not like that,” Vegeta said. He willed himself to let go of her hands. He could hear the way her heart raced but smelled no arousal, so she was only afraid of him. Not excited by his touch. He dropped his hands down, holding hers, and reluctantly released them. He stripped his shirt off as he weaved his way into the closet, dropping his sopping shorts in the small room.

“Woman, does my attire matter?” he slurred, leaning on the built in drawers.

“No, I don’t—“

“What the hell!” Vegeta screeched, the woman was in the closet again but he was naked. Vegeta didn’t cringe away or hide, he wasn’t ashamed of his body. He didn’t particularly care if she saw him at this point, he wanted her badly enough that if he got hard under her gaze, so be it, maybe she would take pity on him. He was horny enough and drunk enough to accept a pity fuck.

“Sorry!” she yelped and turned her back. He didn’t know what to make of the fact that she didn’t leave. “Sorry! I didn’t know you were naked!"

“You told me to change my clothes!”

“I…sorry. I was also worried you would fall. You’re pretty unsteady.”

“I’ll survive a fall. Are you going to dress me again? Hmm?” he said, rather more teasingly than he’d intended. 

She said, “Pajamas are probably the best option, given how drunk you are.”

Vegeta was positive that she turned and glanced at him. “There’s special clothing for drunkenness?”

“No, just pajamas since you’re probably going straight to bed after you eat, right?”

“I’ll teach you to fly. You’re not escaping just because of your clever trap,” he said with a snort.

He caught her sneak a look at him as she snapped, “I didn’t trap you! What’s that supposed to mean?”

Vegeta teetered toward her. Vegeta’s sober mind screamed for him not to do what drunk Vegeta was contemplating. He leaned on a shelf close enough to her that if she shifted her weight, her back would touch his chest. Her breathing was fast now.

He leaned forward so his mouth was almost on her ear and whispered, even managing not to slur, “I think you intended to intoxicate me, woman.”

She turned over her shoulder, not moving her body, much to Vegeta’s chagrin. She said, “What reason could I possibly have for getting you drunk?”

“To keep me from teaching you to fly…you’re afraid,” he purred, his lips a hair’s breadth from touching the shell of her ear.

“I’m not afraid of you, Vegeta. And I’m certainly not afraid you’ll be a good teacher. You lose your temper too easily. You get frustrated and give up on practically anything that presents even the slightest difficulty. You don’t even try for the things you want because _you’re_ the one who’s afraid. You’re so afraid of failing, you don’t try,” she hissed at him.

Vegeta’s ego howled. He hated how _right_ she was. Hated the implication of the words. She knew that he wanted her, and knew that he was too big a coward to tell her. He breathed slowly to keep ahold of himself. “Yes, you’re right. Sensible fear has kept me alive my whole life. It’s a hard habit to break. But I’m not afraid to teach you. You’re a quick learner,” he murmured and stepped away from her. He bent and picked up his shirt, held it over his dick.

“You could be too, if you weren’t such a stubborn ass,” she said, and added, “Do you not know what pajamas are?”

“I am unfamiliar with the word,” he slurred, “I’m somewhat decent if you’d like to pick something out.”

She turned toward him. Her eyes raced over his body, as they often did. Vegeta had no doubt that the woman found at least his body appealing, and most humanoid species had. There wasn’t much to complain about in that regard, except perhaps his height, which hadn’t been a problem until he encountered the Earth standard of taller males. Amongst Saiyans his form and even his height were considered quite pleasing in a mate.

Faces were arbitrary and what each person found attractive was merely a matter of taste, so he had no idea how she felt about his face. But Vegeta didn’t want just her body. He wanted all of her. He wanted her to be his mate. To be her mate.

“What do you sleep in if you haven’t been wearing pajamas? Your training clothes?” she asked, her eyes meeting his, but darting down, perhaps even against her will, as her cheeks flushed prettily.

“Humans sleep in clothes? Even when not at war?”

“Yeah, well, mostly. They’re comfortable clothes just for sleeping or lounging around. So you’ve been sleeping in your training gear?”

“Of course not, that would be filthy. I sleep nude. I’m shocked to hear that isn’t the norm amongst a species that primarily wages war with machines, not their own strength. Clothing for sleeping,” Vegeta said and started laughing. The laughter, like the crying, seemed to engulf all the absurdity of the evening, and he couldn’t stop. Gods he was drunk. And naked. So close to the woman. He leaned on a shelf again with his free hand, still cupping the shirt over his cock for the woman’s sake. “It’s just so absurd to sleep in clothes!” he said as he tried to regain his composure. When he looked up over his shoulder, the woman was ogling his ass. He flexed it and smirked at her. Her eyes darted up and her cheeks’ faint blush turned crimson.

She stammered, “I…well…some people sleep naked—“

“But not you, I take it,” Vegeta said, pushing himself back upright so his ass wasn’t distracting her.

“No. Not me. Usually. Only. You know, sometimes, after…after…afterwards,” she spluttered. He rarely flustered the woman. This was intriguing.

“After what?” he said, shifting the shirt to his other hand, curious if her eyes would drop to try to catch a glimpse of his prick. They did. Vegeta smirked.

She collected herself. He liked to watch her do this when they argued. It was the way she went into battle and it turned him on so much that he considered moving the shirt so she could watch exactly what she did to him. She said, “After sex, obviously. Don’t aliens fuck naked?”

“When convenient, but sometimes aliens fuck at war, so it’sa rather more time-constrained event. But yes, I certainly preferred to fuck in such a way that I could enjoy all of my partner’s body. Taste it. Touch it,” Vegeta said and his eyes moved down the curves of her lovely body. “But fucking in full armor has its own appeal.”

“Have you…” the woman started to speak but trailed off. 

“No,” Vegeta said, assuming she intended to ask if he’d fucked anyone on Earth. He felt validated as her eyebrows drew together and she frowned. Maybe a pity fucking wasn’t out of the question. “Are you going to pick out my clothes? Or shall I teach you in the nude?”

She picked a pair of pants in a heather-gray color. She chose a simple blue t-shirt. Both were soft, supple fabrics. He turned, dropped his cock covering, and pulled on the pants with his ass out for her entertainment. The pants were unfortunately baggy except at the waist, where they were elastic. He tugged on the shirt, and it fit nicely, clinging to his arms and torso. He staggered out of the closet. He seemed to be getting drunker by the minute, rather than less drunk. Worrisome.

She popped a capsule and a glorious amount of food appeared on a table right next to his bed. His eyes darted to hers, unsure what the etiquette of eating was when it was clear she was not hungry. He said, “May I?” and gestured at the food.

“Of course, that’s why I brought it. I’m stuffed. I tried to bring enough that I could gauge how much you eat, but if you’re still hungry afterwards, I can get more.”

Vegeta tried to eat like a creature with opposable thumbs. Although he hunted, it meant that the non-meat portion of his diet had been sorely lacking for the past three years, as there wasn’t enough undisturbed vegetation to forage for fruits, funguses, roots, and other edibles. Having a decent spread of food grown in order to be food was incredible. He ate ravenously, not even daring to look at the woman for fear he saw disgust on her face. Not that her disgust would have slowed him down.

He’d eaten every last morsel and hoped his drunkenness would relent, but it didn’t. “Oh, gods, woman, thank you,” he said and fell backward onto his bed, as close to ecstasy as he could be without fucking her.

She climbed on the bed and sat next to him with crossed legs and looked down at him. “Why didn’t you just tell me you’ve been hungry?”

Vegeta raised drunk eyebrows and whispered, “It’s shameful, how dependent I am on you. I don’t wish to be any more of a burden than I already am.” Still drunk and honest. Not a scrap of dignity in drunk Vegeta.

“Vegeta…if someone you liked was stuck on Vegetasei, but had nowhere to stay, would you take them in?”

“Yes, though I _like_ very few people,” he said warily, unsure where she was going. His mind was sluggish and soupy feeling. The bed spun beneath him.

She leaned on an arm to loom over him more. Her breasts pressed together nicely, her scent was delicious, and her leg was almost touching his hip. The woman was torturing him, being on his bed like this. She looked into his eyes. “If you found out, after a long time, that the hospitality you provided this person had been causing them misery, that it had been _inadequate_ , how would you feel?”

“Ashamed. Disgraced. But I had a palace. Servants. Essentially infinite resources. It’s different for you. You’re not royalty,” he said, grudgingly seeing her point, but still ashamed of himself.

“Being super rich is as close to royalty as a person can get in this country. And I _am_ super rich. Basically infinite resources. So don’t be a jackass. If you’re hungry, ask for more food. You don't need to hunt, for fuck’s sake. Once I have idea of how much you eat, then I can stock up appropriately. I think we should put a fridge in your room. And you can always go with me to the store or we can order what you need or want.”

He whispered, “I hate it. I hate being a burden.”

“You’re not a burden. And for better or worse, you’re stuck here, Vegeta. I don't know how long the spaceship will take. I want to finish it for you so _if_ , and only _if_ , you want to leave Earth, you can. But you’re also welcome to stay. Forever, if you like. I can’t imagine all that you’ve lost in your life, Vegeta, but…maybe…maybe you can finally have a home.”

Vegeta stared into her eyes while the rest of the world shifted and swayed. Her fathomless blue eyes were steady. They were like an anchor. Vegeta slurred, “I think I can start teaching you to fly. Maybe that will be something I can give you.”

She shrugged. “You don’t need to give me anything. Though I wish you’d just talk to me instead of being ridiculous. You could have been eating well for the past three years. I can’t believe I had to get you drunk to get you to tell me you’re hungry.”

He smirked and said, “So you did get me drunk on purpose!”

“No, I didn’t. I just wanted to talk to you. You’re always so surly when stuff is wrong with the GR and dinner with my parents seems to render you incapable of anything more than single syllable answers. I know you said people don’t date out there, but aren’t you…aren’t you _lonely_ sometimes, even a little? You train alone. You eat alone during the day. You spend your evenings alone. I just…aren’t Saiyans…social…creatures?”

Drunk Vegeta fielded the question before sober Vegeta could find something witty to say, “Of course I’m fucking lonely. Horribly. I’ve been here three fucking years. I was alone in a pod with only a scouter for company for over a year before that, and on top of that…” Vegeta’s hand flew to his mouth. What was he saying? He needed to stop letting her see this side of him. The weakness and the pathetic neediness. It seemed drunk Vegeta was determined to get at least some kind of pity, if not a pity fuck.

His eyes stung and he continued in a weak voice, “I don’t…I don’t see how that’s relevant to…to talk of hospitality.”

The woman sighed and stood. She said, “It’s relevant because if you’re stuck here somewhat indefinitely, I thought maybe, at some point, you might want to let someone in. How many more years do you want to feel this way?”

“What way?” he asked, but he knew. He pushed himself up on the bed, which was an unfortunate choice. Her breasts were right there, face height. He thought it would be so comforting to just press his nose into her cleavage and smell her, above and beyond any sexual pleasure it would bring him.

“Alone. Lonely.”

Vegeta swayed upright, face to face with her. He snarled, “What alternative is there? I find everything here confusing and the customs make no sense no matter how many books I read, how many movies I watch, how much music I listen to, I still feel like exactly what I am—an alien! An impostor. A fucking fool, most of the time!”

She poked him in the chest, “See! I told you, you’re _afraid_!”

“Of course I am, haven’t you listened to anything I’ve said? I’m terrified of a lifetime like this, but you say I don’t try? Bullshit! I’ve been trying. I keep trying to learn. I keep trying to understand this miserable planet. I keep trying to figure out a way to get my money here, in Earthling currency so I can stop being a parasite. I keep trying to…to…to…” he trailed off. He was shouting at her. He’d been about to say, he’d been trying to earn her affections, but that wasn’t true exactly, and he was too drunk to lie. Even admitting that he hoped for them felt like a lie when he had nothing to offer her.

She leaned to the side to find his eyes when he looked away from her. “Hey,” she touched his chin lightly to tip his face to look at her. “Vegeta, look, I can’t imagine, I really can’t. And you actually do a pretty good job of acting like you’ve just stepped into life here like it was no big deal. You’re an asshole, but I kind of think that might be how you were before—“

“Oh, absolutely,” he said with a smirk.

“So…you’re doing great. But…well…you’re drunk right now, so I’m not going to push you. But at some point, it might be worth…dropping your walls, just a little. I get the impression you’ve managed at least once in the past, so maybe you can do it again. But for tonight I think you should just drink a lot of water and go to bed.”

“I’m fine. Drunk. But fine. I…I shouldn’t have yelled at you. There will be no danger during your flying lessons this early on, so me being drunk only means I’ll be ungainly.”

“Okay,” she said softly. She glanced outside. “It’s still pouring. You want to do it in here?”

Vegeta’s cheeks flushed, envisioning her toppling out of the air onto his bed, finding herself suddenly hungry for him, but…the fantasy was too absurd, the best he could hope for was an hour or two of her company. An hour or two reprieve from his loneliness. He wished she hadn’t stirred up the things that he’d buried. They were loose now, unpredictable, and he’d endured enough humiliation and shame for one evening, he couldn’t handle more.


	6. Floof

Vegeta awoke the next morning with a headache, but his memory unfortunately intact. He cringed that the woman witnessed his emotional breakdown the night before. Oh gods, and his “teaching” had been horrific. The woman was beyond kind for staying with him while he drunkenly rambled about chi and the beauty of learning to control it. She let him hold her hands a few times. Touch her shoulders even. And in a particularly bold, drunken move, he had placed her hand over his heart, told her to feel the way he could change his pulse at will.

He felt too shitty to eat, so he stripped out of the clothing he’d passed out in, snorting with amusement that he’d worn “pajamas” after all. Maybe he was assimilating. He yanked on his training shorts and flew off his balcony to the GR.

The last time he’d been hungover made a valiant effort to surface in his mind, but Vegeta had many years practice of shoving things he didn’t want to confront back into the dark depths of his mind. He did so now and ramped up the gravity to punishing levels. He hated that he hadn’t yet surpassed that fratricidal clown, Kakarot. It shamed Vegeta right to his DNA.

Before he could even get started, the emergency shut-down triggered when someone unsealed the doors. The woman strolled in with two men in uniform behind her. They carried an enormous box. Vegeta’s possessive rage flared. Not that she was his, but it rankled him the way both men eyeballed her full, shapely ass as she led them into the side-chamber of the GR. 

Vegeta growled, unable to help himself, “Eyes up, boys, or I’ll rip them out.”

Both men were volumetrically larger than Vegeta, but they were pathetically weak. The larger of the two glared at Vegeta, who smirked, daring the fool to challenge him.

The woman looked at Vegeta, her eyebrows knit in bewilderment. She pointed and gave the men a series of instructions before approaching Vegeta. She said, “Why are you snarling at delivery men?”

“I could have carried whatever that is for you,” Vegeta said.

“They drove it here. It’s a fridge. I’ve got an order of food coming, so you’ll have a cache in here. I’m fine-tuning a cooking bot for you as well. I’ve also set up an account with one of the grocery stores—it’s a smart-fridge, so when it gets low, it will automatically have food delivered. Once they’ve finished setting it up, I can show you how to manually add things to the order. I don’t want you to starve, so I’m trying to find work-arounds for your fucking Saiyan pride. Your ego is more powerful than I realized,” she said with a little chuckle.

Vegeta smirked at her and snorted. “It’s like you don’t know me at all, woman.”

She trailed a finger down his sternum and said, “I know you way better than you think, bad man,” and returned to manage the installation of the fridge. Vegeta watched with satisfaction as she commanded the larger humans. She put up with no nonsense and when she caught one ogling her, chastised him in florid language. Her fiery domination of the two lesser humans made Vegeta’s loins ache more than they normally did around her.

He worked out in regular gravity until they were done, ceasing only when it became clear the woman wished to speak to him again. He approached her and she said, “The food will be here in about an hour, so you can train a bit. You hungover?”

“Only a little. I will imbibe more temperately if you ever bring wine again,” he said, feeling out whether another picnic was a possibility.

“Tonight I’ll bring beer. You want me to pick out some clothes for you so you don’t have another existential crisis in your closet?”

He laughed and said, “If you wish, but I assure you, I can manage to have an existential crisis almost anywhere.”

She giggled and swatted him on the arm. “At least you’ve got your sense of humor back. Poor guy, you had a rough night last night,” she said, with a sad half-smile. She shocked Vegeta to his core as she reached up and cupped his cheek. “You should try just speaking your mind more often. Hopefully I positively reinforced your behavior with all that food.” She patted his cheek and took her hand away.

The touch left him almost light-headed. He said, “Training me like a pet, are you?”

“Nothing else has worked,” she said with another little chuckle and waved as she left the gravity room.

It was disturbing how much a few brief moments of physical contact with the woman improved Vegeta’s mood for the rest of the day. She arrived to learn to fly right on time. He stood in his towel, arms crossed, and leaning on the balustrade.

She said, “Oh-ho, you gonna teach me like that?” with a little wiggle of her eyebrows.

“As you wish. Saiyans are considerably less…modest? Is that the word for feeling ashamed of one’s body, and hiding it as a result?”

“Modesty just means not overly proud…keeping your body covered doesn’t mean you’re ashamed of it,” the woman said. She went into his closet and returned bearing items of clothing.

He turned his back and dropped his towel. He pulled on the shorts and the shirt, but ignored the flipper-flappers and the undergarments.

She raised her eyebrows and said, “So…a free-baller, huh? And no go on the flip-flops?”

Vegeta stared into her eyes, extended his hand toward where he’d tossed them on the concrete, and incinerated them. To his surprise, she laughed, shaking her head. He said with a smirk, “Those are absurd excuses for shoes, and don’t get me started on your bizarre undergarments.”

She popped a capsule and Vegeta almost groaned with relief to see a real dinner. They sat down and she gestured for him to start eating. Vegeta eyed the brown glass bottle she handed him warily. He sniffed it and it smelled awful, but perhaps that was misleading. He’d thought the wine was unpleasant to start as well. He said, “Will you stop me before I become a buffoon?”

The woman took the bottle away from him with a chortle. He laughed too and snatched it back and said, “More of a buffoon than usual.”

The woman grinned and said, “You might have hit the ceiling on that, Vegeta.”

“Lucky for you I’m not hangry anymore, or I might kick your ass for such insolence.”

She giggled and gave him one of her shoulder swats. “You could never kick my ass, you like me too much. Plus I feed you.”

Vegeta only smirked at her and tried the beverage. He almost spit it out as he wrinkled up his nose in disgust. “Good gods, woman, are you just going straight to poisoning me this time? It’s repulsively bitter. Why does it smell like skunks and citrus? What a disgusting combination! And it’s…it’s…there are bubbles in it! It foams!”

The woman laughed and took a long draw off her own bottle. “The flavor will grow on you. This is a dank IPA. It’s a type of beer. Grain fermented with yeast and you add another plant, called hops, to give it that bitter flavor and the aromas.”

“You add something to _make_ it taste this way?” Vegeta asked, choking down another sip. It was truly awful and Vegeta had ingested a lot of bad tasting things. The things he did for love.

She nodded and urged him to eat. After that they ate in companionable (he hoped) silence. Vegeta’s caloric deficit resulted in rather excessive eating, even for a Saiyan. He liked that she seemed impressed, rather than disgusted, by his voraciousness. She popped another capsule when things got scarce. Now he did moan, he couldn’t help it. “Oh gods, woman, you have no idea how happy you’ve just made me.”

She smiled and shook her head. “You’re such a moron, Vegeta. I can’t believe your nonsense. Three years of starving to avoid asking for help. I wonder what else you haven’t asked for that you want.”

Vegeta froze, eyes wide, and looked up. It sounded like…like an invitation. He met her gaze. Her eyes were half-lidded and her little knowing smirk made his face heat. Gods, and she was so beautiful tonight. She wore another dress, turquoise like her hair, and her scent was even more enticing than usual as she approached her monthly heat. 

He’d never met a species that had such frequent heats. The fact that hers went unanswered every time made those few days nearly unbearable for Vegeta to be around her. He wanted to answer that biological call as well as the ache in his own body. Perhaps that was why she was being somewhat flirtatious with him. Maybe she was finally ready to be bred. If nothing else, a mate powerful enough to keep her and her offspring safe must appeal to any species, but especially one so weak as humans. Hope fluttered in Vegeta’s heart.

The food was getting low again, and Vegeta was almost full. He pushed the last few manju, a bowl of ramen, and a few sushi rolls toward her across the blanket she’d laid on the ground for them to sit on. Her head dropped to the side. “Are you giving me the rest of the food?”

“Did you get enough? I couldn’t tell with all the inhaling I was doing,” he said with another smirk. 

“I’m full, Vegeta. But that’s very sweet of you. Are you full?”

He wolfed down the last of the food, washed it down with the bitter, disgusting beer, and nodded. “Yes. Gods, even I didn’t realize _how_ hungry I was. Perhaps I’ve been hangry my whole life and now I’ll be a pleasant pacifist,” he said.

She giggled more and said, “Yeah, I don’t think you can blame hunger for _all_ your bad behavior, no matter how hungry you were.”

“I would think you would know me well enough by now to know that I can blame anything or anyone for my bad behavior. I excel at that.”

He got to his feet and helped her up. He tipped the bottle up and swallowed the rest of the vile drink, shaking his head with his tongue out. “Do you enjoy this swill?”

“I do! I’m actually mainly a beer drinker. I’ll drink wine or hard liquor, but beer’s my favorite,” she said.

“Well then I suppose I’ll have to acquire a taste for it. How much ethanol does it have? I feel woozier than I should after one drink. Good gods, you intended to get me drunk again! Can’t you just ask me your nosy questions without lightly poisoning me?”

“I can’t believe you have such poor tolerance even though you weigh at least twice what I do. Maybe I’ll just keep getting you drunk until you tell me all your deepest, darkest secrets, which are probably all pretty tame, since one of them was that you were fucking hungry,” she said, cackling so hard that he barely understood her last few words.

The woman’s laughter was contagious and soon Vegeta was laughing along with her, even though the thought of her knowing his secrets filled him with a confusing mix of delight and horror. The woman just made him _feel_ so many things. It was distressing. He should not have another beer. But he also wanted to get a little drunk. Not like the night before.

“Come on, Professor Vegeta, teach me to fly, see if you can do it without waxing poetic about chi for hours.”

“That’s part of how you fly. The poetry,” Vegeta said drily. But he started to show her how to channel her chi again, uncertain whether there was enough in her to actually get her off the ground. Humans were so weak. She was feisty, at least, and her mental power was unparalleled.

After explaining the same thing over and over several different ways and watching her fail, he moved behind her. He laid his arm along hers, holding her hand, and he pushed his chi into her, let her feel it pulse out of her hand, and together they blasted over his empty bottle. He murmured, almost touching her ear with his lips, “See? Does it make sense now? How to channel it? The way it feels when it moves through you?”

The woman was silent. Vegeta was suddenly uncomfortably aware of how he pressed against her back, their bare skin touching all along the length of their arms, and Vegeta's pulse soared. Her breathing was fast. She was aroused, he could smell that much. Was it just his body? His power flowing through her? Did he care, at this point, if she just used him for sex?

He very subtly dragged his nose and lips up the side of her neck, scenting her more, breathing the pure, intoxicating scent of her skin where she didn’t put the lotion that masked her. She gasped and leaned back into him just a little before straightening up. She said, “I…yeah, wow. I…I felt it. That…I didn’t know you could do that with chi.”

“Here, I’ll boost you again, but you control it, yes? Like I explained,” he said, and kept his arm on hers, let his chi filter down into her arm again.

After several agonizing minutes, where he could feel her straining to manage his energy, her empty bottle began to wobble and after another long moment, it tipped over. He said, “Yes! Excellent!” and squeezed her hip with his other hand before he could even think about what he was doing.

He stepped away from her, curious to see if his bodily proximity had effected her. The pink flush on her cheeks made Vegeta’s hope turn from an ember to a flame. Her eyes moved from the empty bottle slowly up to Vegeta’s eyes. He held them, unflinching. If she wanted him, she could have him.

“Do…do you think I could do that without you? Or do I need your energy to create a chi floof?” she said.

Vegeta set the bottles back up and said, rather more indignantly than he meant to say it, “Floof? It’s not floof! It’s a blast!”

She laughed at him. “Vegeta, no chi I make is a blast. Maybe your floof is a blast, but not mine.”

He rolled his eyes, but smirked. “Then floof away, woman, show me your floof.”

She rolled her lips in and covered her mouth as she started to laugh. Vegeta’s eyes widened. “I…did you…did you just trick me into saying something vulgar?!”

She shook her head and giggled. “I just like hearing you say ‘floof.’ It cracks me up. Okay. Focus. I’m serious.” But she laughed more until she was bent over. She flopped onto the blanket, opened a beer, calmed herself, and took a long pull. “Okay. Phew. Yes. Okay.”

She stood back up and Vegeta flushed as he inadvertently caught a glimpse of her undergarments, sky blue material, thin enough that he could see her pubic hair. He wondered how much richer her scent would be if she didn’t wear those ridiculous things. He tried to refocus his mind on teaching her, but her scent was maddening, even thicker with arousal now than it had been before.

She cocked her head to the side, looking at him. Had he given his feelings away somehow? Had he gone mad and could no longer distinguish between thinking and speaking? The woman gave him a devilish smile, closed her eyes, and her chi hummed. “Well done, woman, keep at it and you’ll have enough—“

She released the chi and the reason for her mischievous smile became clear. It floofed, that was for sure. Right up her fucking dress, baring the entire length of her legs, the whole of her very skimpy, irritatingly sexy undergarment, but worst of all, absolutely battering Vegeta with a wall of her scent. Her almost-in-heat, ready-to-be-fucked scent. 

“Gods, woman, why…” he started to speak, but halted as he could no longer stifle the animal part of him that sucked it in much as he ate earlier. Vegeta was starved for the scent of lust. Hungrier for sex than he’d ever been in his life. He snuffled the air eagerly, his eyes sliding closed with pleasure, and a little groan escaped him.

When he managed to open his eyes again, she met his gaze fearlessly. She said, “You _were_ smelling me! I knew it!”

He crossed his arms tightly. No undoing that little gaff. “So what if I was? I’ve already told you that you smell divine, it’s not as if I’ve been…been…hiding the fact that I enjoy your scent!” Vegeta was seized by the dual impulse to flee and to yank her tight against his body and kiss her. Instead, he froze, like a fucking cornered animal.

She sauntered over to him, her hips drawing his eyes like magnets. He should not have touched her there; now he knew what it would feel like to take hold of her. “Did I do a good job?”

“What?” he said, his brow furrowing in confusion. Was she asking whether she’d successfully blanked his mind of everything but desire for her?

“At floofing. It was a pretty good floof, huh?”

Vegeta warily said, “Yes…it was. Okay…so…now, practice making that happen, but don’t let it run away. Let it out, but keep it close.”

“How will I tell? Can you show me again? That was really helpful,” she said, with big, innocent eyes. But Vegeta knew she was trying to bait him somehow. He just wished he knew how.

Vegeta extended his hand, but she kept hers by her side. She waited patiently for a moment before she said, “Don’t you have to put your arm over mine? To move the chi? To give it to me?” She said the last part arching a single brow at him.

The damned woman was toying with him. He moved behind her. She twisted her head and tilted back as he pressed against her. She smelled _him_. Oh gods. He had no idea how to interpret _that_ , since humans had negligible olfaction. Yet he struggled not to pant as he slid his hand down the length of her arm. Before he could say anything, she spoke with her lips practically on his ear, “You smell pretty fucking divine, too, Vegeta.”

His name on her lips as they brushed his ear drove him wild. He fought not to get hard like some randy teenager. He held her hand and thrummed his chi through her. “Relax your arm, as though you would let it drop,” he murmured, letting his lips graze her ear. She shivered. 

She did, but before it could fall, he funneled her chi, with a drop of his own, into a cushion that kept it aloft. She gave a startled gasp and said, “Wow, that feels so cool! Okay, okay, stop doing yours and let me see if I can do mine by myself.”

Vegeta started to step away, but her other arm reached back and took his free hand, pulled it around her body, lacing her fingers with his, and held his arm in place over her belly. He could feel her breathing, feel that she was muscular, but with a pleasing layer of subcutaneous fat to soften her, to keep any offspring well-nourished. She made her own chi keep her arm up and said, “Ha! Amazing!”

He purred against her ear, “Woman, I believe you are trying to distract me from my lessons,” and he sent a buzzing line of chi through her torso to a place she likely didn’t expect.

She gasped and her head fell back against Vegeta’s shoulder. “What the fuck was _that_?”

“I’m very adept at directing chi in all kinds of ways,” he whispered and pressed his face into the crook of her neck, let himself really soak in her scent. Her scenting him like she had emboldened him. The surge of confidence and hope it gave him was as intoxicating as the horrible, bitter beer.

She breathed, “I think you’re the one doing the distracting now, Vegeta. I think you should just admit that you’re a terrible teacher, and we can put to rest the whole idea of me flying…” Her chest heaved, her pulse raced, and the smell of her heat poured out of her, stronger by the second.

“Oh? Too scared to fly, are you? What if I promise I’ll catch you if you fall?” he murmured and released her from his arms. She seemed to get turned on by the game, and he wanted her willing. He wanted her hungry, and now that he knew he might get her, he could play the game. He could play as long as she needed.


	7. The Game Begins

Vegeta hadn’t had a wet dream since he was a boy. But he woke up the morning after the woman had toyed with him sticky with cum and grateful that he’d kicked his bed-linens off in the night. At least he wouldn’t have to deal with that shame. “Fuck, she’s destroying me,” Vegeta breathed as he laid for a moment, basking in the post-orgasmic bliss and the heated memory of the dream. Of his mouth on her, licking her until she pleaded, and her nails raking furrows in his ass as he drove into her.

It wasn’t an efficient decision to relive the dream. He was hard again in moments. Also close to relieved tears that he might not have to live the rest of his miserable life without getting laid. The woman seemed like she would at least let him fuck her while she was in heat. Vegeta’s genes were excellent, so he could hardly blame her for wanting that. It was the rest of him, the intangible part, that was the problem.

Vegeta reached awkwardly under his bed to the stash of novels he’d pilfered from the woman’s mother. They were pornography, essentially, but written instead of visual. He rather liked that as it allowed him to more vividly fill in the blanks of who the participants were.

While the woman’s mother favored novels that featured two men, she had a few with men and women, and a few with two women. Vegeta preferred there to be some dick in his pornography, but he never minded watching two females couple. One of his first sexual experiences (that didn’t simply involve his hand) had been with two women who wanted a third for a night. They thought he was attractive and they liked tails. Vegeta shuddered at the memory of his tail slipping inside one’s pussy while he fucked the other. The longing for his tail made his whole body ache.

Vegeta flipped through one of his favorites to a well-read scene. The heroine had pulled the villain out of fiery wreckage after attempting to capture him. While tending his battered body, she began to appreciate it, helplessly tracing his scars and sinewy ridges of muscle. Vegeta held the book open with one hand, spit in his other hand, and squeezed his cock. 

Vegeta never had much necessity for masturbation in space. Once he’d reached maturity, he’d never gone so much as a week without fucking in some configuration. Memories flitted through his mind, enhancing the erotica. He knew it was pathetic that he liked this one best, imagining the woman caring for him, but that didn’t stop him from fantasizing. The way the heroine offered the villain redemption through love touched a nerve in Vegeta’s soul that he didn’t like to acknowledge. It wasn’t that he was guilty, or even ashamed, about the things he’d done. It was more _why_ he had done them. Being Frieza’s bitch Vegeta’s whole life left Vegeta desperately in need of validation as a being with his own agency.

The villain awoke and seized the heroine’s hand. She was afraid until he drew it to his mouth, kissed her knuckles, and when she gasped, yanked her down into a fierce kiss. Vegeta’s hand twisted a little around the base of his shaft. Three years on Earth had perfected his masturbation technique. Not that he didn’t like a little variety, just as with actual sex, but when efficiency was the goal, Vegeta could get off quickly.

This particular morning though, with the woman’s heat-scent drifting in under his door, through his open windows, and the lingering remains of her smell on his skin from the night before, he wanted to indulge himself. There was so little pleasure in Vegeta’s life. He teased his cock, cupped his balls and slid them around inside his sac before pulling on them, then gripped the root of his shaft again. He twisted his hand as he pumped up and down on his length, but he didn’t touch his sensitive head yet.

Vegeta squirmed and panted. He set the book down, no longer necessary between the combination of fantasies about the woman and the memories of making love that filled his mind. His other hand reached behind himself and he pulsed his fingers on his pucker. Vegeta missed getting fucked too. Unfortunately there were no men on Earth that had aroused even the tiniest bit of lust in Vegeta. They were all so weak, so spineless.

He wondered if the woman had ever used the fake cocks he’d experienced in his soldiering days. The first time a woman had fucked him that way had been titillating. Her desire to dominate him turned him on. Vegeta liked dominating too, but that had been fun. He could envision the woman railing him, slapping his ass, screaming with her own ecstasy.

He teased his ass more as he gave in to the ache in his head and fisted his tip hard, groaning at the plentiful pre-cum that made his cock slippery. He twisted his hand faster, tightening his grip every time he pushed it over the head of his cock. As he got closer, he dipped inside himself and even though he didn’t make it anywhere near his prostate, he came the moment he did that. He rarely gave himself pleasure that way and it was clear his body missed it. 

Cum splattered his belly and pecs, slipping into the ravines between his muscles as he heaved for breath, stroking himself a final few times and squeezing the last of it out of his tip. Vegeta sighed. Jerking off felt good in the moment, but it always amplified his loneliness and ache for a partner as the brief euphoria dissipated. He laid motionless, clutching his half-hard prick, his finger still in his own ass, and he let himself cry again. 

The fucking woman must have broken some integral part of the emotional dam he’d been reinforcing since before he’d even come to Earth. That journey had been long and miserable, filled with bitter tears and plenty of jerking off. Vegeta’s loneliness seemed to think it needed to tear its hair and rend its clothes now that it had been openly acknowledged to another living creature. Vegeta’s stomach hurt with missing companionship and touch. His eyes squeezed shut and he tried to tamp down everything that damned woman had stirred up.

After a few more heaves, he reined in his pathetic weeping. Why did she poke at his past like that? Vegeta truly didn’t understand. The vulnerability she spoke of as a necessity for closeness couldn’t possibly mean she wanted to know about his romantic past. It just didn’t make sense. Wouldn’t it make her jealous? Vegeta examined how he would feel about knowing her romantic and sexual history. Were she to choose him, he thought he might feel a certain pride that she had left others but picked him.

He bolted upright with horror as a knock came at his door. While he was busy wallowing in his memories, current misery, and cum, he’d missed the fact that her chi and her scent had gotten much stronger. She was outside his door at this very moment and he was painted with his own semen. It was humiliating.

“What!?” he roared, sprinting into the bathroom. She had never shown any respect for his privacy so he cranked on the tap and stepped into the cold spray, frantically scrubbing at his belly. Not a second too soon, either, as he heard her open the door. 

“Vegeta? Are you okay? You missed breakfast. I was worried the beer killed you. I can’t believe you got drunk again. You’re such a lightweight!” she shouted and he felt her getting closer.

“Just a moment, woman, you woke me! I’m—“

“I thought you showered at night?” she said standing just outside the bathroom door which he had foolishly left open.

“It was hot last night, I was soaked with sweat,” he said, hoping his lie sounded better to her ears than his own.

A fresh wave of horror crashed over him as her chi moved toward his bed. She would see that he’d been stealing her mother’s books. He hurriedly finished showering, whipped a towel off the hook, and raced out to hide the book. He froze when he saw her sitting on his bed, leaning back on one arm, and reading. He’d even left the book open, face-down, marking the passage he’d been reading. She would know he’d been reading about sex.

She smirked at him over top of the book. She purred, “Well no wonder you were all sweaty, reading this. I didn’t know you read romances.”

Vegeta spluttered, “I…that…you…it’s not…godsdamnit, woman! Why are you in my room, invading my privacy!? What I read is none of your fucking business!” 

She chortled and flopped back on his bed, holding the book over her head. She crooned, “‘Lana traced her finger down the long scar that ran from his ribs almost to his navel. Rhett had so many scars that she wondered if he even recalled where he’d gotten each one. One of the scars dipped into the tattered remains of his pants, singed from his crash. Lana considered tugging down the cloth, seeing where it ended, but before she could decide, her hand was seized in a viselike grip…’” The woman laughed merrily and said, “I’ll bet he lets her put him in her viselike grip in short order.”

Vegeta couldn’t tell if the woman was making fun of him. Now that he thought about it, he had never seen the woman’s father with a book. Or Kakarot. Or any other male. Were books limited by gender? Was that why she was amused? Did men not read on this planet? He knew some men were at least literate, he’d seen the woman’s father reading on his phone and his computer. 

Vegeta had surmised that on Earth an absurd number of things seemed to be relegated to one gender or the other. They were meticulous about this to the point of taunting those that didn’t conform to what seemed to be completely arbitrary categories. He’d even asked the Namek about it once, as one of the few beings he felt might actually sympathize with Vegeta’s confused plight. The green behemoth had confirmed Vegeta’s suspicions about the gendering of inanimate objects by humans, grumbling, “Yeah, I have no fucking clue what one’s genitalia has to do with all the nonsense they apply it to. Even color, I shit you not, even colors are assigned to gender. It’s weird as hell.”

Vegeta’s ignorant questions tortured him, but he was too curious to avoid it and the woman usually at least answered him. Rather than snarl and tell her to get out, he said, his voice small, “Do…I…I can’t tell what’s happening right now. Am I not allowed to read books?”

She set the book down again and stared at him for a moment. “No, of course you can read books. I was just surprised that this type of book appealed to you.”

“What type? The pornographic kind that your mother favors? There are hundreds of these around the compound, but hardly any other reading material that isn’t dry scientific journals. If I had access to my wealth, I might explore other types of books.”

The woman looked suddenly stricken. Vegeta stammered, “I…did…did I insult you? Your science periodicals are undoubtedly interesting to you, but I’m merely in search of…of…of entertainment. I…why are you looking at me like that?!” Vegeta couldn’t read her expression at all.

“Oh Kami, Vegeta, I’m sorry. I should have given you my library card. Or showed you my bookcases. My mom loves crotch novels, but I have a little broader taste than she does. I didn’t realize you read for fun. You’re such an enigma, Vegeta. Come on, I’ll pick out some clothes and we’ll go on a field trip.”

“Crotch novels?! Where are we going? What does it have to do with crotches and books? What field?” Vegeta barely understood the actual words of what she’d just said, let alone their meaning. He tried to control his temper.

“Crotch novel, you know, because they’re about sex. But there’s no field, my sweet alien, a field trip is just when you go somewhere to learn something. I’m going to show you where the library is. You know _what_ a library is, right?”

Vegeta trailed after her into the closet. He said, “A collection of books. Yes. I’ve seen your mother’s hoard. It’s quite extensive. I don’t think she even notices when I swipe them. They’re called crotch novels? They’re not _just_ about sex, there’s love and companionship and derring-do. Sometimes there’s redemption and forgiveness.”

The woman tossed clothes at him, seemingly at random. Did the woman just know what he should wear or was he overestimating the amount of information conveyed by Earthling attire? 

The woman looked in his eyes and smiled. She said, “You get all that from that erotica trash my mom reads?”

“They’re not trash! I like them! Most species’ spend a good portion of their lives devoted to finding a mate, why shouldn’t these made up stories be about that too?” Vegeta grumbled, but looked down, avoiding her eyes. It upset him that she thought of his reading material as rubbish, but he also felt fucking ridiculous for caring one way or the other. Perhaps if he’d been reading the type of novels she favored he wouldn't be such a bumbling idiot around her. Vegeta tossed off his towel and stepped into the shorts, trying to stifle his irritation that she’d found his book at all. The woman’s sharp intake of breath made him look up. She was staring at him.

Years in tight soldiers’ quarters and on the battlefield left Vegeta utterly without modesty. He momentarily forgot the gender divide on Earth: males could be nude in front of other males, but not females, and vice versa. It was never that way in space, so it was hard to remember that even fully mature, sexually active humans seemed shocked by the genitalia of the opposite sex. It was beyond bizarre. Surely the woman had seen a cock and balls before?

Her eyes met his and her cheeks flushed prettily. Rather than be embarrassed as he knew was the entertainment norm, he smirked, raised an eyebrow, and said, “Like something you see, woman?”

He rendered her speechless. She gawped as her mouth opened and closed once. And again. How delightful. Had he known his cock would quiet her, he might have used it on other occasions. It was nice to stun _her_ for once. He left the shorts unbuttoned, displaying the thin line of pubic hair that trailed from below his navel down to his cock, his only body hair, to fuel the woman’s imagination.

He chortled and shrugged on the shirt, buttoning it slowly. Only then did he zip and button the shorts. She was gorgeous with a little pink blush on her cheeks. She was gorgeous all the time, of course, but he liked to imagine her cheeks pinking up like this while she was getting fucked properly. 

Now Vegeta wondered if no man had ever given her real sexual pleasure. Maybe _that_ was something he could give her too. Vegeta had many faults, one of which was being a completely selfish prick, but never while fucking. Vegeta was a good lover, he knew that much.

What if the woman had never coupled at all? She did say that it was frowned upon for women to have multiple sexual partners. Was that the reason she froze at the sight of his cock? Had she never seen a cock at all? The woman was well into her reproductive years, surely she’d at least _tried_ sex. Vegeta assumed that Kakarot had fucked her, at the very least, because they were so loving with one another. Was it possible that it was purely platonic? Though now that he thought about, Vegeta, in his more desperate moments, had tried to suss out whether Kakarot was a sexual creature at all and had determined that the clown either didn’t enjoy sex, or was very naïve about it. So perhaps the woman and the idiot were simply friends. The other imbecile, the one that had courted the woman for the first two years Vegeta was on Earth probably couldn’t even get an erection. So perhaps she was inexperienced, if not entirely un-fucked. Intriguing.

He cleared his throat as she continued to stand in cock-shocked silence. “Well? Where is this library field you’re tripping me in?”

She recovered with a nervous giggle. “Come on, I’ll show you, it’s not a field. And I’m not talking about my mom’s library. Though I’ll show you mine on our way since I have more variety than her. Hey, you have to wear shoes for this. Here, you hate flip flops, right?” The woman handed him tiny socks and the shoes he saw exercising humans wearing. These were tolerable. He bent to put them on and deliberately put his ass in her direction. He knew she liked that part of him. It was easier to think around her when he’d gotten off twice in the minutes beforehand. He might have to make a habit of jacking off right before her flying lessons.


	8. Between Dumb and Genius

Vegeta considered aborting their mission entirely as he realized the woman was leading him to her bedroom. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to be in her bedroom. He wanted to be on his knees, on his back, in her shower, on _her_ , in her territory. It was his fear that he'd beg and plead for her to just take pity and fuck him that made him consider fleeing. Because he wanted more than a pity fuck. He wanted so badly to be her mate. He wanted to cover every inch of every entrance to her room in his scent so no other males would come near it. He snorted derisively, not that the fucking ridiculous, weakling human males would even be able to detect Vegeta’s territorial markings. They could barely smell their own shit.

“You okay over there, Vegeta? Doing a lot of scowling and snorting. We don’t have to go to the library, but I…I think you’ll like it.”

“My snorts are unrelated. Carry on.”

“What?”

“Let’s go already!” Vegeta snapped, and wanted to facepalm. Apparently the mellow aftereffects of his orgasms had already subsided. They were still walking at a good clip. He sounded like a fucking maniac. Why couldn’t he keep his head around her? He’d never had this trouble in the past when he’d been sexually interested in someone. Perhaps it was just how long he’d gone without seducing or courting or fucking. He’d basically been a recluse for near on four years. No wonder he acted like a complete fucking idiot.

“Jeez, I thought you were in a better mood today. You don’t need to yell. We are going. I’m not as fast as you, but feel free to throw me over your shoulder like a caveman and zip off to my room like an internal—“

Vegeta was so relieved that he wouldn’t have to plod along anymore that he interrupted her, slung her over his shoulder, and they were at the door to her room in seconds. He set her down, indulging in a big sniff of her delectable pre-heat scent. She was usually in heat about forty-eight hours. Gods, he could get hard just breathing near her. His eyelids fell shut and he opened his mouth to flehmen. Yes, he scented that she would probably be in heat by that evening. That might necessitate preventative action prior to their flying lesson. Though perhaps she’d be sick of him after this little adventure and would cancel their evening meeting.

“Whoa, okay, I didn’t actually mean that,” she said as he set her down.

Vegeta’s eyes widened and he ground his teeth. “Then why the fuck did you say it?” he snarled. Humiliating. Why hadn’t he mastered the subtle differences in modes of human speech?

She laughed and patted his cheek. “Silly man. I was kidding. I was making a joke that you’re just…more animal…than most people. Not in a bad way, or anything. You just…you just do things differently.”

“Do you mean not in absurd and inefficient ways?” Vegeta said and crossed his arms tightly.

“Something like that, you grump,” she said and opened her door.

Vegeta’s eyes widened. First of all, her room had the delightful, unshowered, unlotioned, untampered with scent of her actual skin. It was thick with the scent of her. His head lolled back and he groaned, “Fucking hell.”

When he recovered and put his head back on straight to visually assess her quarters he noted that he’d upset her in some way. She recovered her voice as her eyebrows shot up and she said, “What the hell was that?”

“Nothing of consequence. Why are we in your bedroom? Did you get ideas from seeing my prick earlier?” Vegeta said, his lip curling up in a smirk as he met her glittering turquoise eyes.

They sparkled as she adjusted into what he thought of as her battle stance. She poked him in the chest and said, “You wish, mister, you’d have to do more than flash your…your…”

Oh, Vegeta liked that. He’d flustered her again. “Cock is the word you’re _groping_ for, woman,” he purred and canted his head to the side, not backing up as she pushed on his sternum.

“Yeah, that. That. Godsdamnit! That was an accident! I didn’t mean to see you naked! I was trying to help you since you seem to hate human clothing.”

“It is overly complicated. So many fasteners. Why isn’t everything simply stretchy and fitted?” Vegeta said, genuinely curious, and as he’d grown more accustomed to speaking his baffled questions to the woman, he wondered if she knew the answer to this one.

“That’s a really good question. I dunno. Stretchy stuff is comfortable. Fashion is pretty weird, right?”

“It does seem an enormous waste of resources to expend so much currency and thought on how to cover your genitalia and deal with the local climate,” he said amiably. He appreciated that she could at least understand his point of view despite the fact that she adhered to all the humans' bizarre customs surrounding attire.

The woman didn’t back away from him. She stood where she’d engaged in her little skirmish, although he regretted that she wasn’t poking him anymore. She held his eyes. She said, “I just wanted to show you _my_ library in case you want to try out something besides my mother’s filth.”

“Why do you call it that? Do humans truly think sex and sexual pleasure are filthy? What a depressing attitude. Two bodies enjoying each other is quite lovely. There’s little better in life than fucking or fighting,” Vegeta said, back to being irritated. His chances of getting the woman even to pity-fuck him seemed small if she really felt that way about sex.

“No, um, well. Huh. Sometimes you throw me off, Vegeta. I guess you’re right, it’s not…not filthy—“

“Yet you refer to the verbal description of sex as garbage and trash and filth. Who have you been having sex with that you have this impression of fucking? Obviously no one has screwed you properly if that’s how you feel about it,” Vegeta said, searching her eyes. Had that weakling given her no pleasure while courting her? Surely even if the strictly reproductive act of putting a cock in a pussy was off-limits for women who weren’t trying to become pregnant, all the myriad other ways of experiencing sexual pleasure couldn’t be? Vegeta wanted to ask. Did he dare? He supposed he’d already groaned about her scent while in her bedroom, there wasn’t much farther to fall.

But she interrupted him and screeched, “You asshole! Just because I don’t want to read…shitty porn…doesn’t mean I don’t, um, that I haven’t been, you know…” The fire in her words was quickly smothered by what Vegeta assumed was a fairly depressing realization about the quality of lovers she’d had.

Vegeta felt defensive on behalf of his books as he said, “It’s not all shitty. There’s plenty of excellently crafted, detailed, and arousing descriptions of sex in all its various forms. Of course some of your mother’s collection are poorly done, as with any form of Earth entertainment, there is a wide range of quality. Perhaps if you read more of my _trash_ you’d have a better time fucking.”

She growled at him and her little hands balled into fists. He raised his eyebrows. He wasn’t sure he’d ever made her this mad. He liked it. He hoped she was going to slap him. He’d seen that in Earth entertainment as the way women sometimes expressed their displeasure with males they were considering as sexual prospects. She bit out, “Vegeta, you should not talk to people about what they do in the bedroom.”

“I take it you do not like talking about sex in your bedroom?” he asked, arching a brow at her.

“No! That isn’t…grr…oooo, you just…you just…I hate when you say shit that sounds perfectly reasonable when it…it…” She trailed off, took a long breath, which filled Vegeta with hope. Was she scenting him as she had the night before? Her eyes squeezed shut and she continued, “You don’t get to comment on my personal life.”

“Why?” Vegeta asked. No sense stopping his series of idiotic questions at this point.

“Because!” the woman shouted.

“Because that pathetic weakling was not a good lover?” Vegeta offered, wondering if this would bring the necessary slap. Men who got slapped in Earth entertainment almost always also got laid.

“It’s private, Vegeta! That’s why!” she hissed.

“Very well. _You_ started it by indicating your negative feelings about sex,” Vegeta said and shrugged. He stepped into her space so their chests were almost touching and shifted to murmur in her ear, “Shall I leave? Since we are in your bedroom and you seem to have issues discussing the bedroom?”

“You’re such an asshole,” she said in his ear, but hooked her hand around his elbow. It wasn’t quite a slap, but he’d take it. She guided him farther into her bedroom and said, “This is why I brought you to my room at all, not for any other purpose!” She gestured to the small room connected to her bedroom.

It had many shelves that stretched from floor to ceiling all completely packed with a disorderly mishmash of books. Vegeta’s eyes flew around the room. There were hundreds, if not thousands, of volumes. One wall had a comfortable looking couch. There was a fireplace. A cluttered desk in one corner. It struck him as odd to have fire so near so much paper, but then his mind filled with the image of reading next to a roaring fire during the cooler parts of the year. His sex-starved mind immediately transitioned that into fucking her slowly on the couch with the orange, flickering light of the fire dancing on her skin. His strong, scarred hands holding onto her pale, flawless thighs.

“Holy shit…” he breathed. “This is the library you spoke about? I had the impression from your description that a ‘field-tripping’ was more involved than walking into a different wing.” He turned to look at her, but her face was unreadable.

She sighed and smiled at him. “You know, you completely piss me off, and then you say adorable, dumb shit like that and I can’t even stay mad.”

He frowned. “What? How can something be both dumb and adorable? Just because you’re a genius doesn’t mean _I’m_ dumb, you know. There’s quite a lot of smart between ‘dumb’ and your intellectual level. Your echelon of intelligence is on par with mine in strength and battle savvy.”

She laughed and her cheeks flushed again. This time he had no idea why. Maybe there was some unknown euphemism he’d stumbled into. He’d done that before. That was how he’d discovered the term “eating out” did not necessarily have anything to do with where one ingested one’s food.English word order troubled him his first few months.

The woman said, “I know you’re not dumb, but thank you.”

“For what?” Vegeta said. The conversation had taken a baffling turn.

“Aw, I love when you don’t even realize you gave me a compliment. It feels so genuine, unlike the skeevy kind.”

“What? Compliment? Skeevy? Fuck all. What?” Vegeta said, his temper spiraling upward. Earth exhausted him.

“I know. Come on, let’s go on the actual field trip.”

“You haven’t explained any of the nonsense you just spouted at me!” Vegeta snapped.

“I know, you wear me out sometimes. Let’s go get on my motorcycle.”

“What? Why?” Vegeta said. He had a deep distrust of any vehicle that wasn’t a spaceship. What was the fucking point? They made the air on Earth smell terrible and many were louder than anything ought to be and quite often people were completely motionless inside them, completely defying the very definition of a vehicle. Even in pleasant weather! Fucking humans.

Yet he followed the woman. He sighed. He would likely follow the woman anywhere, grumbling the whole time, just to be near her like this. She made him feel less alone, even if she didn’t mean to do so. They arrived at the large room that housed the vehicles.

These “garages,” as they called them, were another completely ridiculous mystery for Vegeta. Not only did the humans hunch inside their transportation machines, but they then put those machines indoors even though the machines seemed entirely to protect the humans from the elements. What was the purpose of so much redundancy? If Vegeta were Prince of All Humans, he would run a much tighter ship. The fucking waste and nonsense were staggering. No wonder they’d done so little with their existence beyond making fabulous entertainment. Likely because they all wanted escape from their own bullshit.

The woman opened the giant door. Why not put a spaceship in this space if one had to house a vehicle? They weren’t designed to withstand humidity and elements other than cosmic background radiation and temperatures unimaginably low and insanely high. But not moisture and extended periods in heavy air-pressure. Yet the in-progress spaceship sat out on the grass.

The woman straddled a small, open-air vehicle. Vegeta supposed the way humans moved did necessitate speedier methods of travel, but if some of them could fly, surely the others could learn? A chuff of laughter escaped Vegeta as he envisioned opening a Remedial Flying School for Idiotic Fucking Humans if he successfully managed to get the woman off the ground. Then he would at last have his own currency.

“What are you giggling about?” the woman asked, smirking at him over her shoulder as she patted the seat behind herself.

“Humans,” Vegeta answered, not wanting to piss her off anymore. “Can’t I just fly with you, woman? It will be faster. And you can touch my muscles. I know you like them.”

He had a brief moment of fear when he thought the woman’s eyes might pop right out of her head. Her mouth fell open and she stammered, “Well…I…I mean, yeah, they…Yeah. Um, I don’t know, you won’t get mad and drop me, will you?”

“Do you intend to piss me off that thoroughly while taking me to the field?” Vegeta asked, smirking.

She got off the vehicle and got in his face again. “You’re pretty easy to piss off, Vegeta,” she said.

Vegeta’s pulse tried to creep up as her pre-heat smell flooded out of her on a wave of aroused pheromones. He purred, “I’d be lost without you, woman,” and wrapped his arm snugly around her waist and pulled her tight against his body.

She wrapped her arms loosely around him, her eyes wide and searching and she said, “I think you meant, ‘I’d _get_ lost without you, woman.’”

He chuckled, but held her gaze as he said, “No, I didn’t.” He rocketed out of the garage before she could respond. He felt stupid, exposing his feelings for her that way. But with her heat coming on, he had some hope that she might be eager to breed as her age progressed. And as always with the woman, he would take what he could get. Every tiny scrap.

Even as he thought it, she buried her face in the crook of his neck, squeezing him, and she wrapped her legs around his waist. Vegeta expended more chi keeping his dick at bay than he did to fly. She periodically peeked out and pointed. He felt her shiver and he let his chi roar up to warm her. She stiffened and he wondered if she didn’t like being warm, but then he heard her say, “Thank you,” against his ear. He shivered too, but from the soft brush of her lips against his sensitive skin.


	9. The Library

The woman pointed down and Vegeta dropped fast enough that she squealed and wrapped her legs around him. Vegeta though about every non-sexy thing that had ever happened in his entire life. He set her down abruptly outside a large, imposing building that proclaimed itself “West City Public Library” in large letters above the glass doors.

“Sweet fucking gods, woman, is this…is this whole building filled with _books_?” Vegeta breathed, his hard-on trying to rise again with appreciation that the woman had brought him to this treasure trove.

“Mostly. There are movies and music and other resources for people—“

Vegeta grabbed her hand and dragged her inside. He looked around in wonder. Shelves upon shelves upon shelves of books lay before him. There were clusters of computers. There were signs above each group of shelves. He spun back to the woman, his eyes wide, and said, “Is…is an audiobook…can you _listen_ to books as well?”

The woman nodded with a little smile. “You said you weren’t dumb, Vegeta.”

“Holy fuck. Look at this place. How much does it cost to have access? Can I render some service to you in order to pay for it?” Vegeta said, staring in awe as he started toward a section called “Nonfiction.” Perhaps that would help him figure out all the bizarre shit the humans did.

“No, Vegeta, that’s the whole thing about a library—it’s free as long as you bring things back. You can’t be a thief like you are with my mom’s crotch novels.”

“Thief is a strong word. I return most of them,” Vegeta huffed, but he couldn’t even muster real anger. He wanted to fuck the woman right up against the shelves of neatly, sensibly organized books.

“I dunno, Vegeta, Rhett and Lana looked pretty…well-used.”

“I certainly don’t get _cum_ on your mother’s books. I’m an asshole, but I’m not filthy and I’m not some teenager who can’t manage his own giz. Good gods,” he said, absently walking down the aisles, touching the volumes reverently. He noticed the woman was no longer walking alongside him. He turned and saw her standing with flushed cheeks and big, shocked eyes. He glanced hurriedly to make sure he wasn’t happily touching books about bestiality or cannibalism or some other thing that would make him seem like a less than ideal mate. He was apparently looking at books about the various wars the humans had created.

He felt his own cheeks flush. Was the woman concerned he would wage war on the humans? He almost snorted. It would just be genocide, not war. “Why…why are you looking at me like that?” Vegeta said taking a step back toward her.

“You…I…” she stammered and then lowered her voice to a barely audible whisper, “Did you just _admit_ to masturbating to my mother’s trashy erotica?”

Vegeta wished she would stop insulting his books. “Not the poorly executed ones, no. But the good ones, yes, absolutely. Isn’t that purpose of verbal pornography?” He stepped closer as she shushed him. “What does that have to do with the library? I told you I don’t damage the books when I read them. I return them to your mother in the condition I found them.”

“Vegeta! I…that…I meant…I didn’t think you used them to jerk off! I didn’t even know you…you did that!”

Vegeta’s nostril flared and his lip hitched up. He hissed very quietly, “I told you I haven’t had sex in nearly four years! Do humans not even _masturbate_? For fuck’s sake, what is wrong with your species!?” This revelation horrified Vegeta. Did that mean the woman hadn’t experienced _any_ sexual gratification even with herself? Vegeta wondered which way the pity should be flowing on the hill of sexuality between them. At least Vegeta had had a great deal of excellent sex in his life and jerked off whenever he needed release. Perhaps he should pity-fuck _her_. He gaped, waiting for her answer.

The woman’s cheeks turned nearly purple and she looked quickly around before she said, “No! I mean, yes, of course humans _masturbate_ , jeez, Vegeta, but…but they don’t talk about it!”

He crossed his arms and leaned in closer as she’d gotten even quieter. “Why? If humans all do it, why don’t they speak of it?”

“Well…it’s like…like…like sex. It’s just…it’s private.”

“So is shitting, but people still have bathrooms and acknowledge their use, correct?”

“Vegeta! I…how…it…why are you so blasé about sex? Like it’s no big deal?!”

“I greatly enjoy sex, so in that sense it’s a big deal, but it isn’t as if it’s some rare mystical unicorn, obviously, given how many humans seethe all over this planet. Humans must breed quite a lot, and unless there is an extensive system of artificial insemination, I assume it is because most humans have sex, both to breed and for pleasure…so…it’s not really a big deal?” Vegeta said the last part as a question. Vegeta found the woman’s attitude about sex confusing. “The only reason I haven’t had sex on Earth is—“ Vegeta stopped. He swallowed hard. “I find this exact attitude confusing. It isn’t done in space the way you humans seem to do it, with a lot of nonsense and rigamarole and insinuations. I’m all for flirtation and the thrill of courting, but nothing humans do makes _sense_ in their _attitudes_ about sex. Which is it? Is it a magical unicorn of purity or trash? How can it be both?”

The woman stared at him. “I…I don’t want to talk about this!”

“What? You brought it up!” Vegeta said, flabbergasted at her bowing out of this conversation that she kept bringing him back to over and over again. “Why? I want to understand! I can’t bear the thought of the rest of my life with just my fucking hand, woman! I want to understand the…the…the methodology of mating on this fucking planet!” Vegeta’s cheeks flushed. He hadn’t meant to reveal quite how distressed he was about his loneliness. About the prospect of spending the rest of his life like this: trapped here with nothing but written descriptions of sex.

She searched his eyes and said, “I thought your books taught you all about it?” She crossed her arms and gave him her smuggest “I-know-better-than-you” look.

“If that were the case, then…” Vegeta trailed off. If he and the woman were in one of the books, she would have fallen for him, she would want him, and the fact that he was broken and worthless would be the very reason she wanted him. All the heroines of those stories wanted to fix the men they interacted with, often struggling and fighting until they eventually fell into one another’s arms and soothed each other’s loneliness. “Fuck this. I’m going to train. Thank you for showing me the library.”

Vegeta strode out of the library and launched into the air, trying to ignore the chill of the tears streaming down his cheeks. He needed to hide from her until her heat passed. It was torture being around her at all, but especially when she was in heat. He thought after their silly picnics they were on more open terms of speaking, but then she seemed distressed by his speaking more candidly about his feelings. Humans were insane.

* * *

Vegeta stepped out of the shower that evening and dried off with chi to go into his closet. He only wanted warm clothes to go out and find a nice place to stargaze. He needed to get the woman off his mind as well as all the memories that she’d stirred up with her wine and her beer. Her attitude about sex seemed to indicate there was little hope of relief between her legs, let alone in her affections. Vegeta felt like crying again, but he would stave it off until he was safely on some remote mountaintop.

“Jeez, just because I’ve seen you naked once doesn’t mean you have to keep flaunting your stuff,” the woman’s voice said from outside on the balcony.

“Good gods, woman! What are you doing here?” Vegeta snapped, but made no effort to conceal his nudity. He strutted into his closet. He didn’t need her for this. He didn’t need her for anything. Wanting was not needing and he took a deep breath, repeating those words in his mind like a mantra.

“Are you admitting defeat? I want to hear you say it, say, ‘Bulma, you are a better teacher than me and I was wrong to insult you,’” the infuriating woman said, trailing after him to the closet, likely to continue ogling his ass and then pretending not to like sex.

Vegeta glowered at her and said, “How about this, you maddening creature: I admit that I have no fucking patience for your confusing bullshit tonight and I’m tired of…of…of…of this!” He waved his hand back and forth between them, pulling on a clean pair of battle suit pants. He wouldn’t bother with the armor, of course, there were no real threats on this planet except Kakarot, and that imbecile would’t bother Vegeta.

“You don’t like hanging out with me? I thought we had fun the past couple nights,” the woman said sulkily.

“What?” Vegeta said, turning back to her again, holding his shirt in his hand. The woman’s eyes roamed over his bare, scarred torso. He smelled her arousal and her heat, now fully upon her. What the hell was her plan? Why did she do this to both of them? She clearly at least wanted him physically and was ready to breed. Vegeta just wanted to understand why she wouldn’t at least give him that, even if she found him lacking as a mate. Scraps were fine when one was starving, even if one wanted the whole meal.

“You can’t tell me you didn’t have fun the past couple nights. I felt like I was _finally_ getting to know you, you stubborn ass. You even laughed and stuff, and not, like, maniacal villain laugh, but like you actually had fun with me,” the woman said, her hands on her hips, blocking his escape from the closet. Why were they always in his closet? The woman was clever, trapping him in such close quarters with only one exit.

“Of course I had _fun_ , what does that have to do with anything?” Vegeta said, throwing his hands in the air with exasperation.

“Then why are you fleeing tonight? I’m pretty pissed you left me at the fucking library. I had to call my mom to come get me. But I got you some godsdamned books anyway, you jerk. I put them by your bed. I’m expanding your horizons, but there’s some good love stories that _aren’t_ porn.”

“See, this, right here, what is your issue with sex?” Vegeta said, crossing his arms tightly.

“I don’t have any issues with sex!” the woman cried.

“You pried about what my sex life was like before, you mock my books, you act completely fucking scandalized that a grown man who’s been _years_ , fucking _years_ , without sex masturbates. You practically passed out seeing my prick. Have you had some sort of unpleasant experience? Did that piece of shit rape you? Why can’t you make up your mind? You brought it up with me while I was drunk, I assume to make my tongue looser. You clearly wanted to know all about my sexual and romantic history, yet when I even suggest that you _have_ a history or thoughts or opinions, you become flustered and agitated, angry even. I don’t like it! It’s unfair! You ripped open my wounds, why shouldn’t I do the same to you?” Vegeta said, his voice shaking and he realized he’d stepped into her space, that their faces were inches apart. He could feel her breath, smell every part of her. He searched her beautiful blue eyes.

She said softly, “I ripped open wounds?”

He closed his eyes and blew a breath out his nose, shaking his head. “Yes,” he opened his eyes and let her see his misery, “You did it on purpose with your bottle of wine. Fuck it. If you want to learn to fly, let’s get it over with,” Vegeta said and started out of the closet.

He looked down when her hand gripped his bicep. Her eyes felt like they were reaching inside him and she said, “I didn’t mean to hurt you, Vegeta. I just…I want you to let me in.”

He threw his head back and laughed bitterly. He smirked as he rolled his head down and he stepped toward her. She backed away until he had her pinned against the wall just outside his closet. “Yes, so it would seem, you would like to be allowed to prod and poke every last injury in what’s left of my soul, but you, _you,_ share nothing of yourself. You speak of me letting you in, but you have shown me nothing of yourself except your ferocity and your brilliance, which, while alluring, do not lend themselves to intimacy. So fuck right off, with your ‘let me in’ bullshit, I am _not_ the one who is _reticent_ ,” he snarled.

Vegeta breathed hard, having spoken much more harshly than he meant to speak to her. It wasn’t her fault that he understood nothing of this stupid fucking planet’s cultures even after years. Yet he was irritated at her. They had had fun, but she parried every effort he made to gain entrance into her inner life, while he opened himself up to blow after blow. He was pathetic to allow her to abuse him this way.

The woman didn’t look him in the eye. She stared at his lips. Vegeta, against all the screaming warning bells in his head, tilted his head to the side and pressed his lips against hers as he dropped his shirt and cupped her face gently in his hands.


	10. Tsunamis

Vegeta kissed the woman deeply, her mouth opening immediately for him. The woman’s tongue slipped into Vegeta’s mouth and he stifled a groan. Her hands wrapped over his shoulders from underneath, pulling his chest tight against her as she fell back against the wall. Vegeta willed himself not to rock his hips against her and scare her off. The woman obviously had issues with sex and he couldn’t just start rutting on her, despite the fact that she was an animal in heat. She smelled so fuckable, so fucking delicious, that it was all he could do not to devour her.

He made himself kiss her tenderly, gently, moving his lips and pulling at hers with his own. Her lips were soft and she tasted divine. He could taste the watermelon seltzer she’d had earlier, the sushi she’d eaten for lunch, the wasabi, the ginger, and underneath it all, the fucking fabulous taste of _her_. The woman’s saliva tasted like his dreams. He breathed deeply of her skin, so close, as he encouraged her to open her mouth more, let him explore her. 

The woman panted and clung to him like she would fall down if she let go of him. Vegeta liked that idea and worked hard not to smirk against her lips. He eased out of the kiss, not daring to continue for fear he tried to take too much. The sensual way the woman moved and the innuendos she dropped initially made Vegeta assume she was experienced and confident sexually. But since the incident with his books and her seeing him naked, he had started to suspect that she was inexperienced at best, maybe even scared of sex. Vegeta didn’t want to ruin his long-term prospects as a mate for the short-term gain of getting his dick wet one time.

The woman’s eyes snapped open as he released her mouth from his. Her cheeks were very flushed and she breathed like he had fucked her right into the next galaxy. It intrigued Vegeta that she responded this way to a simple kiss. Hehadn’t even touched her, except her face.

He searched her eyes and his thumb brushed over her swollen lips. “I do not admit defeat, woman. I’ll get you flying yet. You’re not a lost cause,” he said and turned away from her. He stooped to pick up his shirt and adjusted his cock as he walked out onto the balcony. He gritted his teeth as he saw the woman had set up a picnic.

He was already at his limit with her. Spending another meal with her was not ideal at the moment. Between that morning’s events, his chastising her, and then kissing her, he couldn’t get his head straight. He shouldn’t have kissed her. He sat and started inhaling food. He didn’t know how to deal with what he’d done except to go about his life as if he hadn’t just made such an enormous error in judgement and self-control. When he’d consumed enough calories to think clearly, he looked to see what she was doing, risking more eye contact.

The woman still stood where he’d left her, leaning against the wall. She touched her lips with her fingertips. Vegeta hoped he hadn’t hurt her. He tried to be gentle, but she was no warrior, and humans were fragile. He hopped back to his feet and strutted over to her.

She looked completely awestruck. Her eyes were wide and far away. “Woman? Are you going to eat?” Vegeta asked.

Her eyes met his and she stammered, “I…yeah…oh, yeah, okay. Um, sure.”

“Hurry up,” Vegeta said and gestured for her to go before he demolished the rest of the food.

The woman settled on the blanket, leaning on her hip and resting on one arm as she absently put little morsels in her mouth, not looking at him. 

“Are you alright?” Vegeta said, “Did I hurt you? I didn’t think humans were _that_ fragile.”

She swung her head in his direction and her eyebrows crashed together. “I’m not _fragile_! You didn’t hurt me! But…I…Why?”

“Why what?” Vegeta asked and dusted his hands off, finishing the last of the food that she hadn’t taken. He was still starving, but he would just retreat to the gravity room to eat before bed and add more to the grocery order there.

“Why did you do that?” the woman asked, her eyes dancing back and forth between his.

He took a deep breath. “It won’t happen again. It was foolish,” he said and stood, offering his hand to help her up.

“That isn’t what I meant, Vegeta,” the woman said, and she refused his hand. She opened a large bottle and poured herself a small—ridiculously small—glass of the clear liquid. Vegeta could smell the alcohol in this type a mile away.

“Gods, woman, I see you’ve given up on subtlety and are just showing your hand this time in your attempt to get me inebriated. What is this one called?”

“Vodka. It’s good. It’s my hard liquor of choice,” she said, nodding at the ground, indicating that he should sit again.

Like a well-trained dog, Vegeta did. He was not just a fool, but a pathetic fool. She handed him the thimble of a glass and clinked hers with his and swallowed it in one gulp. He followed suit. “Well, good is not how I’d describe it, but it’s closer to my other experiences of alcohol. No real attempt to hide what it is. High alcohol percentage. I imagine they can make this ‘vodka’ out of just about anything that ferments,” Vegeta said and held his minute glass out. The woman refilled it.

“He never raped me,” the woman said.

Vegeta’s eyebrows shot up. Was he meant to respond to that? What could he possibly say? Good job? That Vegeta was glad she avoided sexual assault by a potential mate? Congratulations on being courted by someone who wasn’t a rapist, just a weakling and a twat? So many options, but all inappropriate, Vegeta felt certain. So he remained silent. Perhaps someone else had raped her. He’d known men like that too, the sort that would rape anything with an orifice that had the misfortune of crossing their paths. Vegeta’s size meant a few of those despicable creatures lost their lives by his hand when they thought him a likely target.

The woman’s eyes flitted up to his and away several times. He said, “Then I don’t need to kill him again.”

She half-smiled and blew a breath out her nose, shaking her head. “No, Vegeta, you don’t need to murder Yamcha.”

“Just as well, I hate repeating myself,” Vegeta said, trying to cheer her up.

It worked to some extent, her smile broadened and a tiny laugh escaped her perfect lips. Gods, he wanted to kiss her right back on the blanket, touch every inch of her flawless skin. Slide his hand up under the soft looking red skirt she wore. The white blouse showed that tonight she had her breasts holstered, to his disappointment.

She looked down and ran her finger around the rim of her little glass. She said, “Why…hmm…what wounds did I rip open, Vegeta?”

“They’re quite painful enough without you stabbing your elegant little fingers into them, woman. You’ve made your…position…on this clear. Let’s get you off the ground. The sooner we do that, the sooner you can admit defeat and go back to whatever it is you did before you spent your time trying to pry me open like an oyster with a fetid sore instead of a pearl,” Vegeta said, his voice harsher than he’d meant it to be, though he was irritated with her, if he was honest. How could he want her and be in love with her and yet wish to scream and shake her. He would never understand a single thing about humans. Or himself, maybe.

Vegeta took the bottle from her and poured a reasonable amount directly down his throat. The shame of having kissed her when she had no wish to share herself or her body with him burned more than the liquid. He stood again and said, “Come, get up, let’s do this, woman. Your chi won’t direct itself. Up.”

“No,” she said and slowly raised her eyes up to his.

“What the fuck? You don’t get to declare victory simply by giving up as a pupil,” he said and began to regret his decision with the vodka. It ripped through his blood like wildfire. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Not again,” he said, the world beginning to swirl and shift under his feet. “How…how much…percentage…ethanol…woman?” Vegeta tried to be coherent.

The woman stood and said, “About forty percent. You just had enough to probably knock out a bigger man than you. A bigger _human_ man, since you seem to have very poor tolerance for alcohol. Well. For anything, you surly asshole.”

Vegeta looked her up and down. “Why’re y’even still here?” He experimentally tried flying. Shit. Not good. Vegeta slurred, “Go ‘way.”

“I think you’re probably going to throw up, you might want to make your way to the toilet,” the woman said and leaned back on the balustrade.

Vegeta knew he wouldn’t throw up. Saiyan stomachs allowed no time for that sort of thing. The vodka was gone, dispersed to his blood and organs, and most unfortunately, his brain. “Stop it,” he said blearily and staggered over to the railing, but he remembered he’d broken it before. He hopped over the railing and fell gracelessly to the lawn below.

He heard the woman screech, “Vegeta! Holy shit!” She sounded very far away.

A few minutes later, she knelt beside him and he glared at her. “Go ‘way, lea’ me ‘lone,” he mumbled. The world tossed Vegeta around and he knew he wasn’t teaching her anything that night. Cursed woman.

“Vegeta, for fuck’s sake, do I need to call Goku to come carry you back to your room or can you stagger along with me?”

“Lea’ me ‘lone. Sleep here,” Vegeta slurred. The idea of sleeping in the grass with the woman in his arms appealed to him, but he knew it would not appeal to her. Her human body wouldn’t be able to handle it anyway without some sort of shelter, even with his heat. He could floof his chi around her. He wondered if she was cold now. He doubted it, she had changed into this combination of clothing since the library.

“Vegeta, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to tear open any wounds, but you can’t keep getting drunk to avoid talking to me. It’s not healthy,” the woman said, resting her hand on his chest.

He narrowed his eyes at her and focused on speaking clearly, “I di’ no’ drin’ to avoid you. I drin’ to avoid mysel.’”

A little crease formed between the woman’s eyebrows. She caressed his cheek. He wanted to blast her. He couldn’t cope with her confusing signals any more. She said, “I don’t know how to let you in, Vegeta. I’m not like you. Nothing in my life has been hard or scary or even trying. I’m rich and smart and pretty and my parents loved me and I’ve pretty much gotten everything I wanted in my entire life.”

“So lea’ me ‘lone. You have ev’ything,” Vegeta muttered and hauled himself to a seated position. It was clear he would have to evade her. He loathed himself. He loathed his life. He loathed Kakarot for going super Saiyan when Vegeta still hadn’t managed despite what Kakarot had done. Vegeta propped his elbows on his knees and held his face in his hands.

He did not want to have another existential crisis with the woman as witness, but it seemed that alcohol brought him to his emotional knees. “Plea’ lea’ me ‘lone,” he pleaded. He needed her to leave because he wasn’t sure he could get away from her effectively with as drunk as he was. Dangerously large sobs threatened, building in his chest like a tsunami rushing toward the shore.

The woman peeled his hands away from his face and held it. “I said pretty much,” she whispered, “There’s one thing I can’t figure out how to get.”

“Flying?” Vegeta offered, proud of his enunciation.

“No, you asshole, not flying, though that seems fun if you can stay sober long enough to teach me,” she said.

He let his eyes rise up to meet hers and she rose up on her knees and leaned toward him. Vegeta’s eyes widened with realization as her lips met his. Vegeta was already overcome with the sadness that battered him as the enormous wave of his stifled emotions made landfall. Tears spilled down his cheeks to his great humiliation. He kept his eyes closed tightly, unable to bear her reaction to this shame.

The kiss didn’t end though. It kept happening and she scooted until she sat facing him. He panted against her lips as they kissed more. His sadness didn’t recede, he was too drunk to control anything, but especially while she was shredding him into tattered little bits this way. Her mouth was all he wanted in the world in that moment. His tears became some weird mix of the bittersweet memories the woman and the alcohol had excavated, embarrassment that he was crying, and relief and joy that she was kissing him on her own initiative.

The woman twined her fingers in his hair and pulled him closer, while keeping the other on his face, gently brushing his tears away with her thumb. Vegeta hesitantly wrapped an arm around her spreading his hand flat on her upper back between her shoulder blades. The cloth of her shirt kept him from touching her skin, but it was just as well. He was in no state to do anything about his lust for her. Weepy kissing was as far as Vegeta would get this night, and if that didn’t cure her of him, he had no idea how to interpret that.

She cupped his face with both hands as she pulled out of the kiss. She kissed his eyelids. She shifted, but didn’t move out of his partial embrace. She moved her hands and trailed the back of her fingers over his cheekbones where more tears trailed down. He wanted to flee so he could let go.

She hugged him tightly. She pressed his face into the crook of her neck and whispered, “You don’t need to hide from me, Vegeta.”

Vegeta felt more sober from his blubbering, perhaps Saiyans cried out ethanol, being such maudlin drunks. He clutched her body and did something he’d only ever done with one other person in his entire life, and sobbed. He shook in her arms, ragged ugly sobs wracking his body like he was being beaten by his past.

She kissed his ear, his temple, and she murmured, “I’m here. I’m not going to leave you alone, Vegeta. I’m here. I’ll be here,” squeezing him, he supposed, with whatever force human arms could muster. “I’ll be here whenever you want help carrying whatever weight is breaking you. There’s no shame in needing help,” she continued. She kissed his temple again, stroked his head, trailing her fingernails along his scalp. 

Vegeta's ruthless drunk mind kept returning to the last time he'd been drunk. The last words he'd said. The last of so many things. Another choked sob escaped him. “But I am ashamed,” Vegeta whispered, “Everything that I am, I’m ashamed of being. I deserve the void. I deserve nothing but the void. Run away from me, woman, I’m poison. I am the fucking void.”


	11. An Offering

The woman held Vegeta and he couldn’t stop sobbing. Until she prodded him about sex in space during their firstpicnic, Vegeta had successfully suppressed almost everything from his past. Vegeta believed that if he buried things long enough, or pretended they were meaningless, that eventually he would feel like less of an open, suppurating sore. Even though the scab had been thin and cracking, the woman was the one to start debriding the wound. Vegeta wondered now as he pressed his damp, puffy face into her neck, if she could truly clean it and bandage it, maybe help him heal.

It was foolish and selfish to want such a thing. Vegeta deserved to be the pus and maggot-filled mess of a man that he was. He deserved worse, but he’d known since he was a boy that the universe never gave anyone what they deserved. He clung to the woman because he was too cowardly to kill himself. He wept on her shoulder because he was too afraid to look in her eyes. He hid from himself as much as from her because he didn't know what it would do to him to open himself up in the way she wanted. He could feel her wish to hear his secrets like a throbbing pulse in his forehead: _tell her, tell her, tell her._ Tell her, so she can run away.

But Vegeta didn’t want her to run away. He wanted to fuck her and love her and try in his shitty way to take care of her. He wanted to be her fucking mate, and he selfishly, undeservedly, and wholeheartedly wanted her to want him back. He ached for her to love him. She couldn’t though. She couldn’t love him as long as his past stunk so horribly, as it necrotized, turning the rest of his shriveled soul into a gangrenous mess. The woman was too curious to even attempt to love him without seeing what the wound was, finding out what caused it. That was the conundrum: he knew she couldn’t love him without knowing, and he also knew that she _wouldn’t_ love him if she knew. She would be disgusted. Horrified. And she should be. He was. He could hardly expect a better response from someone else.

Vegeta cried and cried. She let him. He cried until he could breathe a little. He felt more sober and the world spun less. Once he wasn’t quaking with his pathetic weeping, the woman interrupted his incessant rumination and despair, “Vegeta, will you please just tell me what's eating you alive? I’ve been trying subtly for years to get you to at least be my friend, but whatever makes you so caustic—“

“I _am_ caustic. Nothing _makes_ me caustic. It’s just my fucking pH!” Vegeta choked out.

The woman laughed. At least she appreciated Vegeta’s attempt at wit. He chuckled through his tears a little.

“Don’t be an even bigger, _burning_ pain in my ass, Vegeta,” the woman said and turned her face to his, using both hands to force his face toward hers. He kept his eyes closed. She would see right through him to his slimy, festering soul. “Stop being this way. You keep inadvertently pissing all over the patriarchy, why can’t you drop this steaming turd on it and share whatever is upsetting you? Men on Earth don’t do that, but you’re not like them. That’s _why_ I like you, even if I sometimes buy into the bullshit, but don’t realize it until you make me see the absurdity of the way humans do things.”

“What patriarchy? I thought this country had a prime minister or some nonsense that you people choose?” Vegeta said. He still had to focus not to slur. His tongue felt like it had ball bearings in it. Had the woman just said she liked him?

The woman pressed her forehead to his and said, “Oh, you’re so dumb and cute even when you’re a dick. I love it. Not that. Never mind. You know how I was calling the books you like trash?”

“Yes. I resent it. I like them. And so does your mother. It’s disrespectful for you to denigrate them when I doubt if you’ve even read them,” Vegeta huffed. He wanted to lead her away from himself and if listening to her berate the stories he enjoyed was the path away, then he would walk it.

The woman kissed him again. It surprised Vegeta and he fell into it, cupping her jaw and pulling her upper body tight against his own. She wrapped her arms around his neck as she plunged her tongue into his mouth again. Gods she tasted fantastic even with the light vapor of alcohol on her breath. Vegeta wondered if he could use sex to distract her from his wounds. Vegeta would now wager his life (not that it had value, but it was all he currently had) that the woman had never been fucked properly, even if she thought she had. Vegeta’s pride was a ridiculous front in many ways, but not in that regard. Vegeta knew how to fuck someone well.

He leaned farther forward to lay her back in the grass. The alcohol made everything swivel. He almost overbalanced and fell on top of her but she resisted his attempt to lay her back. He pulled out of the kiss and opened his eyes.

“Not gonna let you fuck your way out of this, Vegeta. You’ve been a train wreck too long. At first, I really did just think you were that much of a flaming asshole, that it was just who you are, but I looked closer. You’re just haunted. Something broke you. Something _besides_ Frieza. Goku told me all about that, so don’t think you’re going to pass that off as your _real_ issue. I’m sure Frieza fucked you up, too, but this, whatever you almost told me the other night, I know that’s why you’re so mean all the time.”

Vegeta parried again. “I’m mean? What about you!? Calling my books trash! Calling me an asshole all the time!”

“Okay, the books I’ll give you, but calling you an asshole is appropriate when you’re being a godsdamned asshole!” the woman said, still so close to him. Still kissing distance. Still with her slender, pale arms around his neck. She kissed him teasingly and he tried again to make her lay back. And again, as always, the woman didn't put up with his bullshit. “No, Vegeta. Talk first.”

Vegeta decided to try another thing he’d never tried. He kissed her, nibbled her lip, and then sucked along her jaw to her ear. He bit the lobe softly before slipping his tongue into her ear. She shivered in his arms. He breathed, “Please…please…” and he took a deep breath before he continued, “Please, Bulma…”

She gasped as he slid his tongue around the shell of her ear. Her fingers tangled in the hair on the back of his skull again and he kissed down her neck, licked along her collarbone, pausing to tongue-fuck the hollow at the base of her throat. He sucked up the other side of her neck, feeling her pulse skyrocket under his tongue, and nipped her other ear. He whispered, “Please, Bulma.”

The woman panted and the last of the sun’s red light made her flushed cheeks look even darker. She let him lay her back now as he eased her onto the grass, cradling her head as he set her down. He kissed her mouth more and she tugged at his shirt. She trailed her hands over his scarred chest after she finished taking it off.

Vegeta wanted to be glad that he was victorious, that the woman was going to let him fuck her. He could hear it in the roaring thunder of her pulse, smell it in the sweet scent of her heat and arousal, and feel it in the desperate way she touched him. Vegeta wanted to fuck her badly, so he was elated, but the part of him that kept him from killing himself howled that he should have taken the offer to unburden his soul. Vegeta stomped on that tiny, slimy, weakling part of himself like a slug. He wished he’d had the will to squash it earlier and kill himself, to spare the woman this mistake.

This was the first time Vegeta had ever spoken her name, and it felt disrespectful to do so, but it was clear that she loved it. He trailed his tongue down her sternum and as he paused to unbutton her shirt, he breathed, “Bulma,” against her skin. Even her name felt good on his tongue. She let him lift her off the ground to slide her blouse off her shoulders. She trembled under his touch.

Before he set her down, he felt for the clasp on her bra and unhooked it, almost moaning at just the thought of finally seeing her bare breasts. She let him remove the infuriating garment and he kissed up the inside of each arm as he took off each strap. When her chest was bare beneath him, he sat back on his haunches to look at her.

As always, the woman was unafraid, or at least made a good show, but her legs were quivering just the slightest amount and her eyes looked as vulnerable as he felt when she prodded him about his past. He ran his hands up her flanks and bent to tease one of her nipples with his tongue and murmured, “You’re so fucking beautiful. So fucking smart. So fucking fierce. You don’t fight fair, woman.” He sucked her nipple hard and her hips came off the ground, her skirt sliding up her thighs so it barely covered her.

She moaned as he licked over to her other nipple. He took it between his teeth and tugged it just a bit, uncertain how resilient a human female body was. She breathed, “Oh fuck, Vegeta!” and her hips rose up again. He moved between her legs in only his training pants, tight enough that there was no disguising his hard-on if she looked or felt.

It saddened Vegeta that she was so responsive and hungry, even though it also excited him. But it made him think maybe she hadn't gotten laid in a very long time either and that was just unacceptable. The woman was flawless. Brilliant, beautiful, confident. She had both wealth and status. She was practically a queen. Why had no proper suitor found her and won her? Were human males blind as well as stupid and weak? Vegeta felt fury on behalf of the woman’s sexual satisfaction. It enraged him that she might’ve been going without pleasure all this time. If nothing else, he could have given her that.

He kissed down her belly as he ran his hands up and down the outside of her thighs. Her heat smell was so strong and he wanted to roar like an animal that he would finally get to taste her like this, to actually bury his face in her. He swirled his tongue in her navel for a moment before he broke away and pushed her legs straight in the air to hike off her skirt and panties.

“Fucking gods, Bulma,” he groaned scenting her at last with nothing filtering and tainting it.

She grinned at him and said, “I didn't know you knew my name until tonight.”

“It should be used reverently, never casually,” he murmured and rested each of her legs on his shoulders. He started at the ankle of the left and sucked and licked and nipped his way down the flawless length of her leg. When he reached her pussy, he smelled her, teasing her more with the gentlest, softest lick on her lips, tasting and feeling the blue curls. He ran his tongue up the cleft between them. A high-pitched gasp eked out of her. He sat back up and gave her other leg the same treatment.

Vegeta didn’t know if she would ever let him fuck her again. Her heat and desire to be bred were probably the only reason she was allowing it now, but at least she would bear a strong, healthy child by his seed. He was beyond caring about her reason for allowing this. But he wanted to savor every second of her body being his.

His mouth reached her pussy again and he gripped the back of her thighs and opened her wide for him. She stammered, “V…Veg…Vegeta, I…um…it’s…I…”

He met her eyes over her pussy and used the point of his tongue to slide along either side of her clit. She tasted better than he’d ever fantasized. Better than any pussy he’d ever eaten. Better than any cock he’d sucked. Nothing sexual had ever turned him on like finally getting to taste the woman he wanted to mate with. He sucked her clit softly for just a moment after her incoherent muttering and said, “Do you want me to stop?”

“I…I don’t…Um…I’ve never really…” she whispered.

“No one has done this for you?” Vegeta said, his fury rising. It redoubled his hunger and his desire to please her.

She shook her head and said, “I, um, I just don’t like it, or, well, I, I guess I haven’t…you know…when…”

Vegeta kissed the inside of her thighs and sat back to watch her face, taking her legs back up on his shoulders so she didn’t feel so exposed. He asked, “You haven’t what?”

The woman’s legs shook more and she muttered, “I…um…I don’t come that way.”

Vegeta was surprised that his eyebrows didn’t just fly off into space they went up so hard. He would kill the weakling. But for now, caressing her thighs, still holding her legs up on his shoulders, he said, “That’s a fucking tragedy. One I intend to remedy.”

“Vegeta, no, I…It just makes me super nervous and self-conscious, please…”

“Do you trust me?” Vegeta said.

The woman seemed to be taken off guard by the question. She said, “Yeah, actually, I do.”

“Then trust me now,” Vegeta said and sucked on her inner thigh, swirling his tongue on the trapped skin. He let it go and spread her legs apart. He nibbled gently along each lip and then licked up alongside her clit on both sides again. He pressed his tongue flat on her clit and moved it in tiny circles, careful not to add too much pressure too quickly. He trailed his hand up her belly to her breast and took her nipple between his thumb and middle finger so he could tug on it and rub the tip with his forefinger at the same time.

“Vegeta, oh fuck, Kami, Kami, Kami!” the woman cried.

His tongue danced along the upper edge of her clit as it engorged more, giving him more traction. He took it between his lips and sucked it, brushing his tongue back and forth over it as he did so. She writhed and bucked against him and panted out his name.

He shifted, never stopping his tongue’s fast movements, and teased her opening with two fingers, slick with spit and her own wetness. He sucked harder on her clit as he pushed two fingers inside her, moaning against her pussy at how tight she was, and she groaned, “Oh fuck, Vegeta, oh fuck yes, Vegeta! Vegeta, fuck, fuck, fuck!”

He reached for her spot, feeling her body’s responses as he thrust at slightly different angles until he found the one that made her pussy twitch on his fingers. He let her clit go and flattened his tongue on it again, using chi to make it vibrate as he moved it in circles. She screamed more and he thrust deeper with his fingers. Her thighs gripped his head and she wailed as he felt the delicious clenching of her orgasm. Her pussy gripped and seized on his fingers so hard that her clit almost vibrated back against him.

He eased his mouth off her as she became hypersensitive. She looked at him with wide eyes as her chest heaved and she said, “Fuck me! I need you to fuck me, Vegeta!” She sat up and shoved at his pants.

Vegeta’s hard-on popped free and she kissed him sloppily as she used her feet to kick his pants the rest of the way off. Vegeta didn’t even dare speak he wanted to fuck her so badly. Going down on her had been bliss, but his cock throbbed for release. He could think of nothing in his entire life that he’d wanted more than to spend himself deep inside the perfect woman beneath him.

She flopped back, her breasts bouncing beautifully, and threw her legs back over his shoulders. He gripped her ass and lifted her with one hand while he aligned himself. Her eyelids fluttered as he drove his cock inside her slippery, still seizing pussy. “Gods, Bulma,” he rasped.

She breathed, “Gods, your dick is as hot as the rest of your body. Holy shit, you feel so good.”

Vegeta snapped his hips forward, now able to hold her full ass with both hands. He drove into her hard, but he felt for the angle she liked again. Vegeta panted, his eyes squeezing shut. If he looked at her he might come. “Bulma…” he groaned again, unable to stop himself from using her name like this. He knew it was different for humans and that she likely preferred that. He supposed even if this was the only time, he was still fathering her child, so it was appropriate that he use her name.

He tucked his ass so his cock drove up at more of angle. He knew he would feel incredible no matter how he fucked her, so his only concern was finding the spot inside her that made her scream. He spread his knees farther apart and held her thighs tighter so he could thrust into her harder.

“Fuck! Vegeta! Oh my gods! I…Fuck!” she moaned.

He liked making her incoherent this way. He could feel her pussy trembling and squeezing him as she approached her climax. “Will you come for me again, woman? I love having you come on my face. You taste fucking divine. But I want you to come on my cock.”

Vegeta dared to open his eyes as her pussy started to clench and she bucked and twitched. A strangled cry came out of her and she scrabbled at his thighs with her hands. She screamed, “Vegeta! Oh gods! Yes! Yes! Yes!” and her eyes flew open. They met his.

Terror burned through him that she would just somehow _know_ about everything by looking into him that way, but he didn’t let his gaze drop. He held her eyes and turned into her leg with his mouth to kiss her knee as he gasped out, “Fuck, I’m coming! It feels amazing to come inside you, Bulma!”

She cried out more as they both rocked together through the shaking surges after their orgasms. He gave each of her ass cheeks a gentle slap, since he was also unsure what a human body’s threshold for pain was. He lowered her down, but kept her on his prick. He couldn’t imagine pulling out of her yet, she felt too good. He wanted to hold her and stay inside her until he was ready to go again. He kept his weight off her body, but kissed her again.

She coiled her arms around his head and crushed their mouths together. Her breathing was ragged and fast. It made him smile to wind a partner so easily. She slid her hands down his back, her fingertips dancing along some of the more tactile scars. After a long while kissing and rolling their hips against one another, she murmured, “Wow.”

“Agreed,” Vegeta said and smirked. He kissed the tip of her nose. “No one has done that for you? Is this planet opposed to everything related to sexual pleasure except novels?”

“I…well…no. It’s just…I guess the guys I’ve been with…well…guy…um, he just said I was too hard to get off,” the woman said, her eyes sneaking away from Vegeta’s.

He pushed up more on his elbows and touched her jaw, pushed her face back to look at him. “Are you serious? You’ve never gotten off with a partner at _all_?”

The woman searched his eyes and shook her head slowly. She muttered, looking away again, “I’ve only been with Yamcha. I made out with a few guys when I was younger, but he’s the only one I’ve had sex with. He didn’t like going down on me. He, um, he said…well…never mind. But I see now that he was bad at it anyway, regardless of my own hang-ups.”

“None of these boys you made out with did it either?” Vegeta said, trailing his fingers through her silky blue hair, running his thumb and forefinger around the edge of her ear. He wanted to remember ever bit of her. The texture of every place on her body. The smell. The taste of her. He kissed her mouth again when she didn’t answer. “They were bigger assholes than me, even. Truly you have a talent for finding unworthy men. Worthy suitors should flock to you. As I suspected, Earthling males are all complete fucking morons.”

The way the woman looked at him then scared him. Vegeta wondered if he had gone too far insulting an entire half of her species. He couldn’t take it back though. It was true. It baffled him that the woman didn’t have a line out her door of men trying to prove their worth. How did they not see? Vegeta supposed maybe he should be grateful. It meant there was some small hope for her to love him, though her expression was so inscrutable that the hope was microscopic.


	12. Persistence

Vegeta eased out of the woman, and still she stared at him that way. The way that made him fear she had seen right through his healthy exterior to the rotten mess inside him. He caressed her silken thighs and murmured, “Thank you.” Vegeta wasn’t accustomed to expressing gratitude for sex, but he _was_ grateful. Her fucking him felt like a gift.

“Vegeta, I…thank you. I didn’t think you’d…I thought maybe I wasn’t…your type,” the woman said, “and—“

Vegeta interrupted, “What does that mean? I told you I’d slept with many different species. You’re my first human, but only because humans are primitive and, until you, were not spacefaring. I…Did…” Vegeta’s mind began to spiral. She had wanted him. She kissed him. Her smell was thick with arousal. She asked him explicitly to fuck her. He didn’t understand what was happening.

Vegeta normally coupled again and again until he and his partner were spent. Often he exchanged some banter before parting ways if it was someone with whom he shared a common language. Or, when he enjoyed the partner’s company, they might talk between bouts. Occasionally…well…with one partner, they curled up to sleep together afterwards. They’d done that fairly regularly, a show of trust between warriors. Perhaps sleeping side by side was part of the vulnerability the woman spoke of being important for intimacy.

But Vegeta had never experienced this…scrutinizing…that the woman was doing. She looked at him as though she wanted to turn him inside out. Why wouldn’t she just let him be? Vegeta wanted to fuck her more. He was already hard again, but if human sexual stamina was like their other physical qualities, she was probably through with him. He’d mistakenly assumed her heat would make her more insatiable. That her heat might save him from a return to her prying. He would even share his bed if she wished, as the only threat the woman posed was when they were awake and speaking. Her persistence and tactics were destroying him psychologically.

He kissed her softly as she started to speak. He wanted her to shut up. If she could just talk to him as though he were a normal being, not a riddle, he wouldn’t mind. But the part of him that wanted absolution screamed at him. That part of him made the memories, the horror of what he’d done, pulse in his mind’s eye like a film on loop.

The woman held his face gently and pulled out of the kiss. “I meant…I thought maybe you preferred men.”

Vegeta flared a nostril. “What is Earth’s obsession with gender? I have fucked beings with cocks who considered themselves female, I’ve fucked those with snatch that thought of themselves as male, I’ve fucked those who didn’t even understand gender as a concept. Why does it matter? I fuck whoever turns me on. I don’t have a fucking ‘type.’ What a ridiculously human concept.”

Vegeta stood. He scooped her up and flew back up on to his balcony. He set her down. She touched his shoulder and said, “Vegeta, don’t be mad. I just…I was startled. It was great—“

“You’re not acting like it was great,” Vegeta said and took the lid off the vodka. He pointed at her and said, “It’s fine if it was just pity, that was all I expected.” He took several large swallows, capped it, and strutted inside. He called over his shoulder, “I’ll teach you to fly tomorrow. Goodnight.”

“Vegeta! What the fuck!?” the woman snapped and he spun in horror that she sounded like she was crying.

He gaped. The woman’s eyes were filled with tears and she was covering her beautiful breasts, hunched over, trying to hide herself. He forgot her clothes down on the grass. He bolted down and returned to her, handing them to her.

“Are you fucking serious? You…you’re just done?” she said.

“What?! Don’t blame me! I wanted more, but it’s clear you didn’t…didn’t want it in anything more than a utilitarian sense. I…I should’ve known better than to think you would…would want me as a companion,” Vegeta said, his voice perilously close to cracking. The vodka hit him like a kamemeha and he swayed on his feet. “Fuck!”

“What? Sometimes I think you just expect me to understand what’s going through your head, but I don’t, Vegeta. I thought we…we’ve been having fun, right? And…and that was good, right?” the woman said, gesturing down to where they’d fucked.

“I assume that if you thought you weren’t my type, that I am _not_ your type, which makes sense. I’m nobody’s type, because no one wants a fucking asshole. A fucking monster. A fucking _fool_.” Vegeta’s head swam. The memories were more vivid when he was drunk.

“I don’t…I don’t…I mean, guys, men, are my type. It’s just like that on Earth, but I’m not…I’m not put off by you…you being different. I like that you’re different. I like _you_ , despite your best fucking efforts, Vegeta. It’s like you’re trying to push me away, while simultaneously feeling sorry for yourself that I don’t love you. How can I love someone who’s hiding from me?”

“I don’t like that you keep trying to…to…to dissect me!” Vegeta said, “It’s…just leave it alone if you want me to keep fucking you!”

“Do you want to keep fucking me?” the woman said, her hands on her hips, any modesty she’d had forgotten.

Vegeta snorted and wobbled drunkenly. “Of course I want to keep fucking you! You’re fucking perfect!”

“I want to keep fucking you too, Vegeta, so why are you being so fucking hostile!?” The woman said and grabbed his jaw, “Stop drinking so fucking much! You’re even more fucking challenging to get close to when you’re drunk! I thought it would help, but you are just determined to loathe yourself. But I don’t loathe you, Vegeta. I like you when you let me. When you stop being an asshole for half a minute. I keep trying to dissect you because I want to know you. I want to know all of you. Because I do want to be your companion, even though it feels fucking insane to want such a thing because you’re a godsdamned basket-case!” The woman’s chest heaved, her breasts moving beautifully as she caught her breath after she ranted.

Vegeta tried to wrap his drunken mind around the woman’s words, but he'd lost the thread after she said she wanted to keep fucking. He yanked her against him and kissed her, moaned as his cock, still achingly hard, rubbed along her pubic hair and her lower belly, the skin there softer than any he’d ever felt. The woman kissed him back furiously and he hiked her onto his hips, driving into her. He could fuck her all night if it kept her from digging around in his past.

Vegeta forgot that being drunk meant his balance sucked. He squawked, “Fuck!” and flailed backward. He caught himself on one arm, holding her hip with the other, so he was almost in a bridge with her riding his cock. She put her feet on the ground and began to pump up and down on his prick. He groaned, “Oh fuck, Bulma, yes, ride me, beautiful!”

He held himself in that position, bucking his hips up against her perfect, tight pussy. He loved that he could look up his body and watch his prick sliding in and out of her. See the glistening slick of her wetness as it coated him.

“Vegeta, holy shit, how are you holding this position? Do you want to lie down?” she gasped.

“No, I want to fuck you just like this. Gods, you feel so good.” Vegeta loved how it felt, but he didn’t think the woman would be able to get off in this position. Her clit wasn’t getting any stimulation and he couldn’t quite manage the dick angle to hit the inward side of her clit.

Vegeta took his hand off her hip and she giggled, trying to keep her balance. He soaked his thumb in saliva and reached for her pussy. It was fairly slick from her own wetness and his cum, but he didn’t want to hurt her, stretched out as she was, leaning back to stabilize herself as he pounded up into her. She braced her hands behind her ass on his thighs. She breathed, “This okay?”

“Fuck yes, Bulma,” he rasped. He slid his wet thumb onto her clit, gave her a little buzz of chi and started moving in circles.

She threw her head back and moaned his name to the stars. Her fingernails bit into his thighs and the scent of blood made his cock twitch and harden even more. She met each of his thrusts with as much power as a human body could muster and he appreciated that she was using everything she had to fuck him.

Vegeta was so drunk that his head felt like he was underwater as his alcohol-filled brain held all his blood that wasn’t in his prick. He pulsed his thumb more and added more chi. He flexed the muscles that controlled his cock and was able to point his dick more toward her bellybutton. She wailed and gasped, “Oh shit, Vegeta, holy shit, how…you’re…oh fuck, I’m…I’m coming! Oh fuck!” She slammed herself down on his prick.

The wet, pink folds of her pussy clenched visibly on his cock as he rammed up into her. He watched hungrily and his prick answered eagerly. The smell of her heat radiated out of her core like a beacon for his seed. He groaned, “Oh gods, Bulma, fuck, yes! Grip my cock!” His cum roared up out of his balls into her and the seizing of his own orgasm made him whimper it felt so good to fill her again. His whole body thrummed with pleasure and relief.

Vegeta took his hand off her pussy and wrapped his arm around her waist. He clutched her body tight against him. He kicked his feet off the ground. She squealed as he flipped her upside down. He kissed her as she squeezed her legs around his hips. He balanced precariously, drunkenly, on his one hand in a handstand. He kissed her deeply, enjoying how it seemed to thrill her to be held inverted and kissing.

The vodka began to win and he completed his tumble, gracelessly, but without hurting the woman as he landed on his feet, staggering a bit with her on his hips. He never broke the kiss and she laughed against his lips.

“Show off,” she murmured.

“I have to impress you somehow,” he whispered back and opened his eyes to meet her gaze.

“I’ve never…I’ve never come so many times.”

Vegeta laughed and said, “Three? I’m not done, you don’t need to tease me.”

The woman leaned back and he almost tilted forward into her to follow her lips. She said, “What? No, I’m not teasing. I’ve come twice in a row by myself, but that's my max.”

“Those weren’t in a row. We had a break to argue. It’s like our special version of foreplay,” Vegeta said and smirked.

The woman canted her head. “You’re serious, aren’t you. You think that was trivial.”

He furrowed his eyebrows as much as he could control his drunken face. It was taking a considerable amount of energy not to slur. He said, “No, I told you that I wished to keep fucking you. That I would enjoy being your companion, so of course I don’t think it’s trivial. It’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

The woman’s eyes went wide. She stammered, “I…me?”

“Yes. You. Foolish woman. I thought you were smarter than this. But at least I’ll fuck you properly, unlike the Earthling men you’ve allowed to have you. I can’t believe they suck at fucking on top of being blind, weak, and stupid,” Vegeta said, weaving toward his bed. Perhaps the woman would like to share his bed. It was common in Earth entertainments. Even casual fucking encounters often slept near one another. Vegeta assumed it was because they were all weaklings, so no one felt threatened.

Vegeta grabbed her feet and held her in a squat as he flopped onto his back on the bed. She laughed and said, “How are you still hard?”

“Hmm? What do you mean? You’re beautiful. Your pussy feels amazing. Of course I’m still hard. Why wouldn’t I be? I’ve told you that I have no trouble with impotence,” Vegeta said, a little testily perhaps, but he was sick of her implying that he wasn’t a good lover.

“No, Vegeta, oh my gods, you…do you not go soft after you come? That’s how human men work. Of course I don’t think you’re impotent. I think sometimes you think I’m commenting on you when I’m just asking a question,” the woman said and pinched his nipples, “So stop trying to be offended.”

“How should I know that human cocks are flaccid all the time? No wonder you were so speechless when you saw mine,” Vegeta teased. This was what he wanted after coupling. Just to be at ease. To enjoy one another for a few minutes before fucking more, no need for emotional revelations or confessions.

“They’re not flaccid _all_ the time. Jeez. You’re such an asshole,” the woman said and bent to kiss him with a grin. Vegeta found her insistence on calling him an asshole affectionately so…reminiscent…that it made Vegeta’s throat tight.

The woman stared at him in her way again and he realized that maybe his face had betrayed him. He ran a hand through his hair, liking that both his hands now smelled like her pussy. He said, “What? Why do you look at me that way?”

“Why do you squirm whenever I look at you?”

“I told you I don’t like that you’re always prodding me and prying,” Vegeta said, covering his eyes with his hand. The vodka roared in his veins. He felt the absurd urge to cry again. He was happy. And relieved. And temporarily sexually sated. There was no reason to cry. Yet his nose stung. He took a deep breath. He swore to himself that he would never drink again.

The woman pulled his hand off his face. He let her, though it terrified him. She kissed him with her eyes open. “I’m a scientist. I can’t help it. But I also…I don’t know…I want you to trust me.”

“Of course I trust you,” Vegeta said and snorted, “You’re the only person I trust. Well. Maybe Piccolo. He’s not a complete idiot like everyone else on this planet. But not…not like this.” Vegeta swallowed hard, wishing he hadn’t said that, he didn’t want to confuse the issue of his desire for the woman by implying there were others that interested him sexually. Desperation made one consider all sorts of options, but the woman was the only one he _wanted_.

“No, you don’t. You’d just get your deep dark secret off your chest if you trusted me. I want you to be happy, Vegeta. You can’t be happy as long as you let whatever this thing is fester inside you. You just cried in my arms because of it, so just…just have out with it so we can fuck and have fun and be…companions.”

Vegeta wondered if her choice of “companion” meant she had already decided against him as a mate or whether she was just mimicking his language. “Leave it alone, woman. I’ve told you over and over. You should run from me, but you’re here and you like my prick, just enjoy my prick and let that be enough for you. If you don’t want to keep fucking me, then fine, I’ll tell you, because I assure you, you’ll be done with me once you see what I really am.” Vegeta lifted the woman off his cock and walked, swayed, really, into the bathroom. He took a piss and regretfully washed his hands, splashed cold water on his face.

The woman pressed against his back and kissed some of his scars. Her hand snaked up and traced the outline of the divot in his chest from where Frieza had killed him. She said, “There really isn’t anything you could say that would change the fact that I like you. You realize that I like you even though you’ve murdered entire planets full of people?”

Vegeta stared at her in the mirror. He met her innocent blue eyes. Vegeta gaped: she thought massacring people was what made a person evil. There was nothing evil about killing someone you didn’t know. It was the easiest sort of killing. Vegeta couldn’t even remember most of the planets he’d cleansed, let alone their inhabitants. Did she think he had some ridiculous guilt about being a weapon of war and commerce? Vegeta had made peace with being a weapon and a slave a long time ago. He had flare ups, of course, like with Kakarot on Namek, but mostly it was just what he was. All that he was, maybe.

Vegeta’s eyes filled and he growled, “Very well, woman. Don’t say I didn’t warn you. You’re a bigger fool than I thought. You know nothing of evil. Nothing of cruelty or darkness. You are innocent and naïve. But at least I got laid before you run away from me as fast as your beautiful, lithe legs can carry you.”

The woman glared and said, “Vegeta, I'm not naïve, I like you even though you killed my boyfriend.”

Vegeta threw his head back and laughed as tears spilled down his cheeks. He spun and met her eyes. He stared into her and for the first time he saw her fear. But Vegeta was done. He was done fighting with the hatred inside himself. He was done with her poking relentlessly at his wounds. Let her run away. What did anything matter?

He flared his nostrils and said, his voice thick with the tears that he was powerless to stop. “Well, then surely it won’t bother you that I killed my own.”


	13. Companions

The woman’s eyebrows crashed together and she said, “What? Killed your own what?” She searched his eyes and he could feel her pulling away from him.

It had been sweet while it lasted. He loved her. He wanted her to love him back, even with this and despite what he was. A part of him thought that absolution from her could take the place of the absolution he really wanted. Forgiveness from the only person who could give it to him was impossible. That was the problem with murdering someone you cared about.

He met her terrified gaze unflinchingly. “My…what you call ‘boyfriend,’ though I thought of him differently. The principle is the same. I killed my own boyfriend. After ruining his life. After treating him like trash. After saying hateful shit. After breaking his heart.”

Vegeta’s whole body shook saying it out loud. His eyes burned and he let the tears stream out of him as he waited for her to slap him or curse him or simply to leave. He swallowed and and took a shivering breath. The woman said nothing. She stared and said, “Well? Tell me what happened.”

“What?” Vegeta said, more startled by her words than he had been by her allowing him to fuck her.

“Explain. You obviously regret what you did. Tell me. Tell me what exactly you did,” she said and she took his hand. She led him out of the bathroom. She climbed into his bed. Vegeta gaped. He didn’t understand. She crawled under the covers and tugged on him uselessly, of course, but he took her meaning and followed. She fluffed one of his pillows and curled her arm up underneath the pillow and laid on her side, facing him.

Vegeta settled next to her, so close, so intimate. Vegeta trembled. This wasn’t how he had expected this to go. He choked down another sob of confusion. Vegeta prepared mentally for her disdain or fear or flight, but this, her wanting details, was harder. Scarier. Vegeta shook his head and buried his face in his pillow.

The woman’s calloused hand touched his face and pushed him to look at her. She said, “You don’t get to decide how I judge you. Or whether I do at all. But I can’t do anything when you give me a vague description of something that clearly broke your heart. So fucking tell me what happened so I can stop dissecting you. If you want me to stop prying you open, let’s see the fetid sore, bad man.”

His eyebrows crumpled up and he sobbed more. It seemed worse somehow that the only person who had seen him sob more than this woman was the person he’d killed. He covered his face with his hands and brought his knees up to curl into a little ball. He hated himself so much. He didn’t deserve the woman’s kindness or even her curiosity.

Her lips pressed against his forehead above his hands. She pulled herself around his body. She smelled wonderful. So fuckable. But he knew he wouldn’t get away with fucking her a third time to distract her. The woman was fucking relentless in her inquisitiveness. She murmured, “Come on, Vegeta, just get it out. It’s like puking, you’ll feel better afterwards.”

“Saiyans don’t puke! Our stomachs are incinerators, essentially, all is destroyed the minute it gets in there. I don’t want to, it seems awful.”

“Stop trying to distract me with intriguing biological features,” she said and peeled his hands away. “Out with it.”

Vegeta’s eyes flitted back and forth between hers. He didn’t know how to interpret this look either. He said, his voice weak and choked, “I…we…” Vegeta paused and took a deep breath, “It should never have happened, and that was part of the problem. Part of what made me such a shit. Not that I’m excusing myself. We…for a long time it was just fucking, you know, when there was no one else for us to fuck. Just convenience. We were together all the time, so it was easy and we…we…we enjoyed each other, but we knew…we knew it was foolish to think that…that either of us could have anything else. He could have. He deserved better. But I was an imbecile. An asshole of the highest order. Then…It was all my fault! And I was drunk, so every time I get drunk, it’s all I can think about!” Vegeta’s throat closed as he bawled. The woman wrapped tightly around him, shushing him, but she let him cry.

Eventually she pulled back and said, “Hey, hey, okay. Look, none of that really made any sense to me. I think you’re gonna have to start at the beginning and actually tell me using your words. I don’t want a novel book-jacket with no spoilers. You always assume I know more than I do. Start at the beginning. Who was it?”

“We grew up together, so we…he was the closest thing I had to a friend. We did everything together and when we matured…we experimented. For him, I think he would have left it at that. I fucked others, of course. I fucked my way around the universe. He did too. We just…we fucked each other too. The older we got though, the more…the more I realized…Oh fuck. I’m so ashamed, woman, you have no idea—“

“Because you won’t just tell me,” she said.

“I realized I was in love with him. I didn’t even know I had that capability. And the first time I got drunk, I…I told him. I told him and he confessed feeling similarly—can you even imagine a person loving someone like me? I didn’t believe it, but he convinced me and for the first time in my life I cried with someone. We held each other and we cried for what we were. For our lost people. Our lost home. Our lost freedom. What we could never have. So after that, I…we…we were together, I believe he was what you Earthlings would call my boyfriend. But he was beneath me in class. I wasn’t supposed to be with a third-class so sometimes I…struggled…with my feelings.”

The woman giggled and interrupted, “I think you might _always_ struggle with your feelings, Vegeta.”

Vegeta snorted and tried to smirk. He continued, “He would have been executed on Vegeta-sei if he’d so much as given me a hand-job. But I loved him. And Vegeta-sei is gone. Saiyans are gone. We…we had a few good years of loving one another as we rampaged. But Frieza…Frieza never wanted me to be happy. Increasingly, my love and I were split on missions. We hardly saw each other anymore. Then…then that lizard found out about it. Frieza insinuated that he would…would…would take what was _mine_. The only person I’d ever loved. So I convinced my love and Nappa to mutiny. To flee. I asked my love to risk his life and spend it on the lam rather than let that slimy Ice-jin have him. It wouldn’t have been the first time someone I fucked had to fuck Frieza as a way to punish me. Frieza fucked whoever Frieza wanted to fuck, but—”

The woman searched his eyes as she interrupted, “Wait, so…Raditz? You were with Raditz? And Frieza raped him?”

“Gods help you if Frieza had to make the effort to rape you. If Frieza asked you to fuck him, you did it or you died,” Vegeta said with a shrug.

“Holy shit, that’s awful. Did…did he make you do that?” The woman’s eyes were enormous and glistening in the dim light.

“Of course. What better way to humiliate me?” Vegeta said, unclear why the woman was hung up on the nonsense with Frieza. It was irrelevant. Just a part of existence in the Frieza Force.

“Fucking hell, Vegeta. I’m so sorry,” the woman said, her hand covering her mouth.

“What? Why? I haven’t even told you what happened.”

“Okay, so we’re just going to gloss over the fact that your overlord forced you to have sex with him?” the woman said, her eyes searching and confused.

“That is kind of the main thing about being a slave. There’s a lot of forcing of things. I was luckier than some. He didn’t get a taste for me. Only used it to keep me in line if I got…rebellious.” Vegeta shuddered at the disgusting memories.

The woman’s eyes filled with tears. Vegeta had calmed some, and his tears had the same sobering effect they’d had earlier. Maybe he really did weep ethanol. He supposed she was disgusted with him. He was disgusted with himself, so it was reasonable. “I’m sorry. I’m repulsive, but I’ve been a coward as long as I can remember. I knew I wasn’t strong enough to fight Frieza then, so nothing to do but take it. But Frieza had never taken notice of Raditz until…until he realized. Until he knew what Raditz was to me. He split us originally because he assumed we were conspiring against him, which was true.”

“Fucking gods, Vegeta, I’m…wow…Okay…so you guys fled?” the woman asked.

“Yes, fortunately Frieza chose to taunt me a fair amount before taking Raditz. So I arranged things. Raditz discovered Kakarot’s existence and hoped with his help we could break Frieza’s yoke so we wouldn’t have to live our whole lives in hiding,” Vegeta said. Vegeta could still picture Raditz’s face the first time he’d told Vegeta that he’d discovered the coordinates of the planet where his powerful younger brother had been sent. Vegeta couldn’t remember what system they’d been in, but he remembered the beautiful golden light that the atmosphere there created, the way it shone on Raditz’s skin. It had been cold, so Vegeta joked about making a nest in Raditz’s hair. And Raditz teased him about being the perfect size to hide in his hair.

Vegeta sobbed. He didn’t want to remember anything nice. He didn’t deserve to have happy memories. Raditz should have taken them straight to the other world with himself. Vegeta had no right to them. Vegeta’s mind filled with memories of their tails playing; twisting together while they made love; the way Raditz’s would flick happily after they’d been apart and were reunited. The way it slinked up Vegeta’s back their first time fucking after Vegeta confessed his love.

The woman curled around him again and kissed his shoulder and his cheek and his temple. She whispered, “You poor thing. I can’t imagine how hard your life must have been. Trying to love Raditz under conditions like that must’ve been challenging.”

He shook his head into her breasts as she snuggled against him. “No, no, Raditz was easy to love. It was wonderful. It was the only thing that made my life worth living. I hate myself so much. We lived in hiding and made a plan to get to Earth. Our planning was all done on a planet outside Frieza’s hold. We decided to get drunk before we made our last gambit. Even if Kakarot hadn’t been a completely selfish prick, we knew our chance of success was slim, but we’d heard too much chatter on our scouters about the effort Frieza was putting into catching us, so we knew we had to make our move. There would be no mercy, even if we returned to Frieza with our tails between our legs.”

“So what happened? Why did you kill Raditz? And how did he wind up on Earth if you killed him? Did you go to Namek first and resurrect him?” The woman forced his face out of hiding and he could feel her eyes inside his mind like fingers pulling open a resistant fist.

He shook his head, confused that she still didn’t understand what he’d done. He said, “No, Nappa, Raditz, and I got drunk. We splurged and stayed at an inn the night before we planned to leave for Earth. Raditz and I went at it as only Saiyans can, but I was very drunk. I was…terrified. I suspected that Kakarot would be more powerful than me. But I was also so scared of what would happen if Frieza caught up with us. I…well…you know how I am. I lashed out after we fucked. I also…I feared losing Raditz so much that I wanted…I wanted to believe it wasn’t anything special. So when he said he loved me, as he always did when we coupled, I…I said…I said that he was nothing to me. That he was third-class trash. Nothing more than an easy fuck. That he meant nothing to me. That I would have no use for him once we were free. Once I was king again. Ruler of the universe in Frieza’s stead. Raditz said he supposed then I could just order him to fuck me, like Frieza, so things would just be the same except that he no longer had to pretend I had a soul or knew how to love. That I was a husk, not worthy to be called a Saiyan. That I had _liked_ fucking Frieza.”

“Oh jeez, Vegeta, you Saiyans even know how to fight psychologically,” the woman said. Vegeta couldn’t help the little bark of mirthless laughter that escaped him.

“Too true, woman. That…that pushed me over the edge. So I told him that as my subject, I ordered him to go to Earth alone. To collect Kakarot while Nappa and I made ready our plans to move on Frieza. I said that it was beneath me to retrieve a third-class outcast and that only an imbecile could fuck up such a candy mission,” Vegeta said and his voice cracked as his throat tightened ominously again. He took a few shaky breaths. “He left and the last thing I said to him was that I loathed fucking him. Regretted tail-twining with him. That I’d never loved him, that I only used him as a tool. I…Sometimes I’m an honest drunk, but sometimes, when I’m scared…my vicious nature shows me for what I am. A coward. A spineless, worthless monster.”

The woman looked befuddled. She said, “But…then…did you kill him?”

Vegeta was perplexed that she didn’t understand that his order had signed Raditz’s death warrant. “Well, that…that _was_ me killing him. He left for Earth on his own. You know the rest. Kakarot killed is own brother with Piccolo’s assistance. I failed to even take vengeance. And…and…and I didn’t…when I heard shit going badly over our scouters…I…I wanted to apologize, I could have apologized then and told him how I really felt, but my fucking pride. I…I tried to tell myself that I spoke truth to him at the inn. That I didn’t love him. I’ve waited years to stop loathing myself for sending him to his doom. For not telling him the truth in his final moments, his final moments that never had to be if not for my cowardice. If the three of us had come together as we planned, none of it would have happened. I should never have said any of the things I said to him. But I’m a sniveling, weakling coward. I never deserved him. He certainly didn’t deserve me and what I did to him.”

The woman said, “Vegeta…fucking hell. You didn’t kill him. You had an unfortunately timed outburst, admittedly a really shitty one, but he happened to die before you could try to reconcile. That doesn’t mean you killed him. I’m so sorry. You poor thing. No wonder you hate Goku.” The woman clutched his face and stared into his eyes.

Vegeta pushed up to look down at her, to see her more clearly. “What? You’re a fool. You don’t understand. He didn’t have to die and because of my own…pathetic…pointless…cowardly bullshit…I sentenced him to death. I might not have kicked the stool out from under him, but I sent him to the gallows.”

Vegeta scooted away from her. He didn’t understand what she wanted from him or why she was still there. Still in his bed. She sat up and climbed astride his lap. Vegeta’s eyes went wide and he leaned away from her. “What…what are you doing?”

“I was going to kiss you, but you leaned away,” the woman said, caressing his cheek with one hand and trailing her other down his arm.

“Did you misunderstand me? After years of love and companionship, I blithely sent my love, my only love, to his death during a drunken tantrum! What is fucking wrong with you? Why are you still here?”

The woman rolled her eyes. “You are such a moron sometimes, Vegeta. The shit you get hung up on and the shit you just steamroll is weird. It seems like you have all kinds of baggage that you’re dragging around tied to your neck. It’s completely understandable that you’re upset and broken-hearted about what happened with Raditz, but you didn’t _kill_ him. So look at me. _Nothing_ is wrong with me. I want you to fuck me again, because I honestly didn’t know until tonight that I’ve never had good sex until you. And you haven’t had sex in years, so I assume you wouldn’t mind another round.”

Vegeta held her lush ass in his hands and stammered, “But…you…wh…I…Why…why did you even want me to tell you if…if…if not to judge me?”

“Oh, I judge you. I judge you as entirely too hard on yourself. I do think you should drink less. You’re terrible at it. But, come on, you really can’t see that you fucked up, but you certainly didn’t _murder_ Raditz? Good gods, Vegeta. Give yourself a chance to be a good person. Don’t be a miserable shit for the rest of your life because you were a miserable shit for one drunken night.”

Vegeta stared into her eyes. He didn’t see any loathing or hatred or disgust. He saw only…kindness. Concern. Lust. Vegeta, to his horror, felt his lips trembling and his eyes filled yet again. Good gods, the woman could tolerate his cowardice and soullessness, but he would drive her away with all his snotty sniveling. She surprised him again though—she was an expert at surprising Vegeta—and wrapped him tightly in her arms. She clutched his head, pushed his face into her neck.

“You poor, broken, idiot. Let it out. Grieve for him. But remember that it sounds like you made his life better for a lot of years too. Let it out, but stop blaming yourself. Let it out,” she murmured against his ear.

“You’re always calling me an idiot and an asshole, but you’re the one who keeps…keeps…keeps being near me. If that’s not idiocy, I don’t know what is, and you’re a fucking genius, you ought to know better,” Vegeta blubbered.

The woman held his face again and moved him so their foreheads were pressed together. “You clearly need someone with a higher intellect to look at your dumb bullshit and clear it up for you, to teach you about forgiveness,” she whispered and gave him a half-smile, “I’m really sorry you lost him. I’m sorry that you lost him when you were on the outs. That seems awful. But everything about your life before Namek seems like it might’ve been pretty shitty.”

Vegeta choked out, “He wasn’t. I loved him, Bulma. I didn’t know I could love, until I fell for him. And…and look what I did to him anyway.” More tears broke free and he shook as he tried to take a deep breath. “I don’t want to do that to you.”

“Well, good fucking luck getting me to take any of your dumb orders, mister. You’re not my fucking prince, so I don’t give a shit what you tell me to do. And if you’re a dick to me, I’m going to tell you that you’re being a dick to me,” she said, still holding his face. Her thumbs brushed away his tears. “Besides, I know you’re a big softy under all your angry bluster. And I know you don’t make the same mistake twice. Except maybe the drinking. Jeez, Vegeta, you still haven’t learned you’re a lightweight.”

“Well, like I told you in the GR, you’re a terrible teacher,” Vegeta said, managing to smirk instead of bawling more. When the woman leaned in to kiss him, smiling and laughing, he didn’t dodge away. They kissed more deeply and he murmured against her lips, “And a fucking fool as well.”

“That makes two of us, then, Vegeta,” she whispered and wound her arms tighter around him. “I forgive you. Forgive yourself.”


	14. Distraction

Vegeta tried not to laugh in the woman’s face at the very idea of forgiving himself. That wasn’t going to happen. Vegeta didn’t know how to forgive _anyone_ , let alone himself. It wasn’t in his nature. He did know how to fuck, at least. So he could do that to distract himself from the raw, renewed wound the woman had torn open with her relentless curiosity.

Gods the woman was delightful to fuck. He could fuck the woman into the ground if she’d let him. He could fuck her until she passed out. He could fuck her until he said foolish things to her. It was clear now that the woman wanted to be bred, and that she enjoyed getting properly fucked. That fact alone made Vegeta feel it was almost an honor to finally give the woman sexual satisfaction at this late stage in her life.

What were human males doing while coupling? There was nothing particularly complicated or unusual about human female anatomy. It resembled pussies and other entrances Vegeta had seen on other species, with differences in positions and proportions, but most female genitalia had nerve bundles that had to be treated right. It was purely a matter of observation to find what “right” was, and Vegeta liked figuring that sort of thing out. Vegeta liked bringing pleasure in this one small sphere of his life.

Vegeta took the woman’s breast in his hand and thumbed her nipple. He looked into her eyes again as he dipped to suckle the other. He had it hard in no time. She groaned and ground her cum-slick folds on his cock. He purred, “Woman, I want to make you come until you pass out.”

The woman panted and said, “Vegeta…”

“That is my name, beautiful,” he whispered and nipped across her chest to suck her other nipple.

She gasped as he opened his mouth wide so he could swirl his tongue around the hardened nub. Her breasts were objectively lovely. Breasts like this were fairly unusual in Vegeta’s experience. They felt so good in his hands as he cupped the other, pinching the nipple between his forefinger and his thumb, rolling it just a bit, tugging occasionally.

“Fucking gods, you’re gonna make me come with just my nipples and your dick rubbing on my clit,” she breathed and nudged at his forehead, pushing his head back so she could kiss his mouth, taking it off her breast.

Vegeta smirked against her lips. “That sounds fun,” Vegeta said and brought his other hand off her hip and started working both nipples with his hands as he kissed her more deeply. He used the muscles at the base of his cock to shift his angle so he could rub the hard ridge along the underside against her clit.

The woman shoved him back on the bed, and he allowed it. He would allow her anything with his body. She straddled him again and adjusted herself so she could really grind herself on his shaft. She panted, “Oh gods, are…are you sure this is okay?”

He twisted both nipples and bucked up against her sensitive folds. “I’m quite certain,” he said and put his hips into it, sliding along her clit. He brought his cock down until his slit, spilling pre-cum, nudged at her engorged nub. He rubbed his head around on her clit until it was wet from both of them. She looked down and watched, her cheeks flushed beautifully, her hair an unruly mess. Vegeta loved making her look this way. He loved disheveling her.

“Feels good, Bulma?” Vegeta whispered, as her mouth hung open.

She nodded frantically and tentatively wrapped her hand around his cock. She met his eyes as she used it like a toy, stimulating herself with his prick. Vegeta groaned with pleasure that she let him have this. She gasped, “Yeah, oh gods…Vegeta…I’m so close…”

“Come for me, and then I’m going to fuck you, Bulma. I want you to ride me again because you’re gorgeous. You feel so good on my cock. I love when you play with me. Come for me,” Vegeta pleaded and watched her pupils dilate. He scented her arousal rising, felt the heat from her pussy as it clenched. “Take me inside you so I can make it better,” Vegeta breathed.

The woman listened and even as she wailed with her climax, she guided him inside her sheath. He felt for what he wanted to hit, almost losing himself in the bliss of her wet, gripping pussy. He growled, “Fuck yes, you feel so fucking good!” He drove up into her once he’d found what he wanted. He drove into the spot relentlessly and her eyes went wide.

The woman screamed and clawed at his pecs. The seizing and twitching of her pussy redoubled and she slammed down on him as hard as she could with her soft, human body. He never let go of her nipples, and the results were excellent. She pleaded and her release dragged on and on until he could tell she was approaching overstimulation. He was so close to coming, but he didn’t want to push her.

Her tightly closed eyes flew open as he slowed and she commanded him, “Come inside me, Vegeta. Come inside me!”

Vegeta smirked and let himself go with a breathy cry and a few final, savage pumps. Before he’d finished spilling his seed inside her, she collapsed on his chest and kissed him like she would die without it. “Vegeta, fucking gods, oh my gods, Vegeta, yes, oh gods…” she said and he felt a powerful aftershock grip her body.

He slid his hands down her flanks and palmed her round, plump ass. He wondered if she’d ever taken it in the ass. Or given it. He doubted it. Earthling gender nonsense seemed to preclude the pleasure of pegging. It was a damn shame. Vegeta would very much like Bulma to peg the life out of him. He growled a little, just imagining it, and rocked up into her.

“How the hell are you still hard?” she said, still catching her breath. She threaded her fingers through his hair, scratching his scalp lightly, and it felt wonderful. Vegeta missed being touched like this, even if he didn’t deserve it.

“Hmm?” he asked and kissed her more, not really wanting to point out that human males were apparently weaker on every front. That Saiyans were breeders and colonizers and that their cocks could wage war too. Vegeta smirked, he imagined he was better in bed than Kakarot. But the woman hadn’t slept with Kakarot so he couldn’t be sure and he certainly wasn’t going to fuck Kakarot’s screechy wife to find out.

“You heard me, bad man. How do you still have a hard-on?”

“How could I not be hard with you lying naked on top of me, woman?” Vegeta said and nipped her earlobe. He squeezed her ass. “Perhaps you thought I was joking about fucking you until you passed out? Would you like to share my bed as they do in my books?”

“Did you not do that so much in space?” the woman asked, propping her chin on one of her hands, her elbow in his armpit.

“I did with Raditz. Otherwise, only with partners I was considerably more powerful than. Not worth the risk, in general.”

“How strange that you would willingly fuck someone you were wary of like that,” the woman said and played with his hair more. “Your hair is so intriguing. It is much softer than I expected.”

“Mmm…” Vegeta hummed and dragged his fingers through hers gently, untangling a few snarls. “Yours is very silky, but I imagined it would be.”

The woman blushed and a shy smile spread on her face. She said, “You…you imagined what my hair would feel like?”

“Of course. Why wouldn’t I?” Vegeta said.

“So you didn't just fuck me to put me off your past?” she asked.

Vegeta’s eyebrows came together. “ _That’s_ why you think I did this?”

She shrugged. “I honestly have no idea why you did this. Your actions often baffle me. I thought you hated me until…until recently. Or maybe…I don’t know, not hated, but that you merely tolerated me for lack of options,” she said, scrutinizing him in that way she had. In that _prying_ way.

Vegeta didn’t want her to go. He wanted her to sleep in his arms. He wanted to fuck her awake in the morning. He wanted the opportunity to keep fucking her. But he didn’t know what to say that wouldn’t be wrong. He hesitated and said, “No. I rather enjoy your company. Now I know that I enjoy fucking you as well.” He felt his cheeks heat.

She looked as if he’d slapped her. Vegeta had hoped that his statement was nice without being overly romantic, but it seemed he’d fucked up somehow. He always fucked up. He hated this fucking planet. He hated fucking human culture. The woman said, “You enjoy my company?”

“Yes. It’s understandable that the feeling isn’t mutual. I’m…abrasive…when I’m frustrated. Well. All the time. I…But…you…you please me,” Vegeta said, feeling flustered and awkward. He regretted not sticking to fucking. He should have fucked her another time or two and she would have been too tired for this nonsense.

“No, that isn’t what I meant. It just surprises me. I like you too, Vegeta.” She grinned, kissing him, and said, “You please me, even if you can be a complete asshole. I like that you’re never cowed by me. I like that you stand up to me.”

Vegeta gave a chuff of laughter. “Indeed. I like that about you as well. You’re no coward, that's for sure. Never afraid to face death, are you?” He grazed the back of his fingers along her jawline and plunged his hand into her silky hair, pulling her mouth down to his.

“Vegeta…thank you…for telling me. I’m sorry you’ve suffered alone with your grief,” she whispered and kissed him.

He was glad they kissed for a long time. It gave him a moment to compose himself after her unnecessary kind words. It still confused the shit out of Vegeta that she was so _blasé_ about him murdering his longtime lover. But he supposed nothing else about the fucking planet and species made sense, there was no point in thinking too deeply on it.

The wound she’d ripped open still throbbed though. He had stuffed his feelings about Raditz deep, not wanting to confront his own shitty behavior. Dealing with his own daily shitty behavior was trying enough, but to face his past crimes exhausted him. And while suicide often appealed to Vegeta, he wanted to save this worthless backwater if only because the woman loved her home. She loved her life. She loved her idiot friends. If he could help keep those things intact for her, that was worth staying alive. It was worth training constantly. It was worth spilling the black tar of his past to her. He would do almost anything for the woman in his arms.

A flicker of hope warmed his heart: perhaps he could love her properly. Perhaps he could be good to her. He had no idea how to do that, but he supposed fucking her well was as good a place to start as any. Giving her a strong, healthy child would also help. He suspected she was embarrassed about her advanced age for breeding, so he saw no reason to bring it up, but he was glad he could give that to her. His eyebrows furrowed. He knew little about human gestation and birth. He would have to go to the library and do some research.

The woman sighed and pushed herself up off him. She said, “I believe I will take you up on that offer to sleep with you, because I’m exhausted. I can’t believe you’re still hard, good gods, Vegeta, how much would I have to fuck you to get that monster down?” She swaggered to the bathroom and he moaned at the sight of her perfect, naked form in the dim light.

He hopped up and followed her. She seemed confused by his presence in the bathroom. He raised an eyebrow and gestured to the toilet. “By all means. I’m going to brush my teeth, but then I need to piss, I drank too much.”

She gaped at him and sat on the toilet. “Wow…okay…so…you're just…fine…with this?”

“With what? Earthling toilets? They’re very wasteful, but I’m unsurprised, given how primitive much of your tech is. I can’t believe you can encapsulate whole houses but you still use paper to wipe your asses and water to remove your elimination. That would never work in space. Water is precious.”

“No, not…wow. Okay, well, I want to hear more about space toilets and how you, um, wipe,” the woman said and turned fuchsia.

Vegeta wasn't sure he would ever understand some of the shit that made the woman fucking blush. He set to cleaning his teeth, leaning on the counter so he could admire her body while he did so. She squirmed under his gaze. He removed his toothbrush and said, in a somewhat garbled voice, “What? Why are you uncomfortable?”

“I…I've never gone the bathroom with a man in the room.”

Vegeta’s eyebrows shot up and he started laughing uncontrollably. He spit in the sink so he didn't dribble foam down his chin. He wheezed, “Why? You fucked the weakling I killed, yes? And isn’t it important for females to piss after coupling? How have you not pissed in front of a male? Is that another part of the fucked up gender nonsense on this planet? Are women not allowed to eliminate waste? Do you just have to hold it until the male is gone or unconscious? Good gods, between that and not bringing you off, they seem unworthy of your affections.”

The woman’s cheeks were vermillion but she searched the ground and straightened up on the toilet as she said, “I…it’s just an unspoken thing that…that…I don’t know! I’ve never done it, okay, so…get out!”

Vegeta finished brushing his teeth, rinsed his mouth, and turned back to her with crossed arms. “No. You need to get over this bullshit. I want you to be comfortable around me. You can’t be if you’re concerned about _pissing_ for fuck’s sake. What would you do if you had to take a shit?” Vegeta asked.

The woman was potentially having a stroke, judging by her complexion and expression. Vegeta hooted with laughter. “Oh good gods, are you not allowed to even _acknowledge_ your bodily functions around males? I’ve seen that sort of nonsense on planets I purged that were exceptionally primitive. I didn’t realize humans were that…pathetic. Woman,” Vegeta knelt before her and kissed her deeply while she sat on the toilet. She reared away from him and he whispered, “Take…a…piss.”

The woman finally laughed and shoved at him. “I’m not peeing while I kiss you! It’s embarrassing! Going to the bathroom is private!”

“Well, I’ve lived my entire life in barracks and in the field, on crowded ships, so it is not private to me. I demand you assimilate to me for once,” Vegeta said and another growling laugh escaped him. He drove his fingers into her silky hair again and leaned in to kiss her again. “Come on, woman, don’t be shy. If you’re not going to piss, I could make use of the fact that you’re just open and exposed with plenty of space to maneuver underneath your sweet pussy.” He walked his fingers up the line where her thighs were clamped tightly together, her blue curls at the juncture.

“You are _not_ fingering me on the toilet, Vegeta!”

“Then stop being weird and take a piss. My bladder has a lot of ethanol in it.”

She stood up. Vegeta rolled his eyes, sat, pointed his still-hard dick down, and took a piss, arching a challenging eyebrow at her. “I thought you were fearless, woman,” he said, smirking.

“Oh, fine! Fuck you!” she said and slapped his ass when he stood. She struggled on the toilet for some time and finally her heard her void her bladder.

“Excellent! I’m so proud of you, woman!” Vegeta said in an excessively cheerful tone. He quipped her chin and laughed as she scrunched up her face in anger.

“Godsdamnit, Vegeta, you asshole!” she finished, wiped, and flushed.

“You even use paper after urinating! More wasteful than I thought,” Vegeta said, curious now, “Do males do that as well?”

“I…no…I don’t think so,” she said, “You are teaching me about space toilets tomorrow and Capsule Corp is going to make a boatload of money with more efficient toilets.”

“I would like to contribute to the costs of keeping me as your unruly house-pet, and while I never anticipated shit-removal being the way I would do so, I suppose it’s as good a way as any. Next in your training to be a warrior is taking a shit in front of me,” Vegeta said and clutched her naked body against his.

“Your training is to try to be less of a dick right after you get laid,” the woman said and kissed him, grazing her fingernails down his arms.

They climbed into bed together and she curled on her side and encouraged him to wrap his body around her from behind. He liked that she showed this vulnerability with him even though it was their first time coupling. Even though he’d just told her that he killed his previous lover. He hoped it meant that she trusted him not to harm her. He buried his face in her soft hair and tried to quiet his mind.


	15. Wagers

Vegeta awoke before the woman, but he feigned sleep. He enjoyed letting her think she got the drop on him. She twisted over her shoulder and rolled quietly in his arms. He could feel her eyes on him. Her fingers delicately brushed over his face, tracing his features, until they dragged harder across his lips. She kissed him, obviously intending to wake him as she also wrapped her calloused hand around his prick.

“Good morning, woman. Not a touch of subtlety in your vulgar mind, is there?” he teased, not opening his eyes as he kissed her more. He slid his hand over her hip and clutched her ass, grinding her crotch against his very hard cock.

“It feels like it is going to be a good morning. And you make me feel vulgar, Vegeta. I can’t think of anything but this,” she whispered, running her hand up and down his prick, “About what I want to do with it.”

“Oh? What do you want to do with my cock, woman? Have it for breakfast?” he said, cracking his eyes to see if she smiled at his suggestion.

“It’s crossed my mind. Do aliens like having their dicks sucked?” she asked.

“While I can’t speak for all aliens, in my experience, yes is a pretty universal answer to that question. Though I don’t know if a human could properly suck Saiyan prick,” Vegeta said, enjoying how it riled her up when he challenged her like this.

She chuckled and slapped his pec. “You’re such an asshole, Vegeta. I bet I can suck your dick until your toes curl,” she purred, issuing her own challenge.

He growled and threw back the covers, sprawling on his back. “Well, I wouldn’t want you to go hungry. And I can never resist a wager. What do I get if I win and my toes remain uncurled?”

She moved lithely above him, her breasts pressed together by her arms, clearly a deliberate effort to show her physique off to him. “You get to fuck me more,” she said.

“Do I only get to fuck you more if I resist your attempts to suck the cum right out of me?” Vegeta said, arching a brow at her.

“Hmm…I suppose not. Well…what do you want?”

“Nothing I haven’t already gotten. If you can’t suck me off, you have to come to my bed tonight,” Vegeta said, holding out his hands as he saw humans making deals do.

“What do I get if I _do_ suck you off?” the woman said, eyeballing his hand.

“What do you want, woman?”

“Go out to dinner with me tonight. Get dressed up and act civil while we eat a meal together in public,” she said, staring him down.

The request startled Vegeta. He stammered, “But…I…I have no currency, I can’t—“

“I know that, bad man. I’ll pay. I want you to behave yourself. I want to take you out and show you off. Show the world that I briefly tamed the Prince of All Saiyans,” she said.

It intrigued Vegeta that the money didn’t matter to her. Wealth was an important factor in most matches he saw on the television and in his books. Men without money were never considered as mate-potential. Vegeta canted his head. That was confusing enough, but the fact that she wanted to be seen in public with him was bizarre. “Why?”

“Why what?” she asked, still stroking his prick.

He gripped her wrist, stopping her from distracting him. “Why would you want anyone to know you…you endure my company?”

“I don’t _endure_ your company, Vegeta. Good gods. Because. I’m a human, Vegeta, and while some of the nonsense you spew makes no sense to me, some of it has a strange ring of truth that I find a little unsettling. But it doesn’t matter. I’m bound by the way I was socialized. And I’m socialized to feel…slutty…if I don’t have a relationship with the man I’m fucking.”

“But you don’t _want_ a relationship with the man you’re fucking,” Vegeta clarified.

“That’s not true. I told you I like you. You are way more insecure than I expected—“

“I’m not insecure. I'm fucking sensible. Do you not understand that I’m categorically a terrible choice for a partner? I’m a destitute, lover-murdering, abrasive—“

She cut him off with her mouth, kissing him until he rocked his hips up to get some friction. Her mouth, even stale with morning breath, was delightful. He wanted to skip the whole wager and sink into her pussy so slowly, bring her up at a torturous pace, and make her come so hard she saw stars.

He decided the wager would wait, because he needed to do just that. He rolled her onto her back and his hand dragged down her soft belly to her blue curls. His fingers slid into her folds alongside her clit. He held it gently as he started circling the pads of his fingers. He bent to suckle her nipples as she arched and gasped. It pissed him off that she’d never had this. She was far too wonderful to have been deprived of sexual satisfaction her whole life.

He dipped his fingers inside her, drawing her slick out and up onto her clit so he could move without it catching. She panted, “Are you trying to keep me from giving you a blow job?”

“I’m trying to get you off, woman, it seems as though you’ve been underserved by the human population,” Vegeta growled against her skin as he sucked roughly over to her other nipple. “Perhaps you’d like this to go like your alien abduction entertainments? I could probe you, inspect your body,” Vegeta said, chuckling, and kissed and smelled over her skin as he pulsed his fingers on her clit and thrust his prick into her. “Hmm? Is that why you want me? Have you been watching too many sci-fi movies?”

Bulma couldn’t even speak to him for a long moment, her eyes hazy with lust, and a little smile spread on her face. She breathed, “Sometimes you are such a dick.”

“You don’t seem to mind,” Vegeta said and sucked her nipple hard until her pussy started to squeeze around his cock, not coming yet, but getting closer. “You seem to like when I’m a dick.” Vegeta drove into her harder, shifting his hips to aim his cock up to the sensitive place he’d discovered inside her.

“Vegeta…Oh fuck, how…you get me off faster than I can do it myself…don’t…wait…” Bulma stammered, her cheeks beautifully flushed as she writhed on his cock.

He kissed her mouth again and pulled out. He smirked and said, “I can tease you, if you’d like, woman. I can take you to the brink,” he rubbed her clit in tight circles until her cries were high and fast, then stopped touching her entirely. “But I don’t have to get you off, if you want me to stop?”

“You are just the biggest asshole,” she said, smiling and rolling her hips up, trying to push her pussy onto his cock.

“I don’t deny it. But…” he put his fingers back in her wet, engorged folds and said, “I could also just make you come more than once.” He slipped his head inside her pussy, withdrew, and did it again, twitching his hips away when she tried to get more penetration. “Which is it, woman? Hmm…” Vegeta noticed the night before that she liked when he purred in her ear, spoke to her in a low, rough voice. He said, “I think you like me growling at you, woman. Your sweet pussy is so wet for me and I’ve done little more than talk to you.”

She wrapped her legs around his waist and tried to pull his dick inside her. She murmured, “Vegeta…just fuck me…please, you fucking tease.”

“There, was that so hard to say?” Vegeta rasped and drove into her hard, pulsing his fingertips on her clit with a little zing of chi each time. She screamed and thrashed as she kicked at the bed to try to get more of him. He splayed his hand on her tailbone to hold her as he slammed into her. “Fuck, Bulma, oh fuck, yes, gods!” Her slick, hot core squeezed and clenched on his dick and he lost himself, coming hard inside her. He loved the scent of his cum in her pussy. He loved the scent of her fertility. He loved that she’d let him breed her.

* * *

Holding out against the woman’s dick-sucking skills was like a special form of training, and Vegeta enjoyed every second of it. Saiyans could essentially ejaculate (or not) at will, so she didn’t really know she was playing against a stacked deck. Vegeta smirked through her increasingly desperate attempts, but it pissed her off. Vegeta liked pissing the woman off a little. Not a lot. Just a little.

When she finally gave up, breathless and flushed and angry, she slapped his pec again. “Fucking hell, Vegeta, do you just really not want to go out to dinner with me? Are you that averse to being seen with me in public?”

“I’ll go out with you, woman, I just enjoy _winning_. I would think you’d know that about me, if nothing else. Even though I think you’re a fool, I’m delighted to be seen with you on my arm,” Vegeta said with a shrug, pushing her hair out of her face where it was stuck with sweat and saliva. He kissed her. “Consider it an ongoing challenge to get me off when I don't want you to do so.”

The woman’s dark, grim smile made Vegeta’s insides heat. “I like a challenge, too, Vegeta,” she said and kissed him, “Sadly I have work to do today, so I can’t just fuck you all day long.”

“That _is_ sad, but I have to train anyway. I won’t surpass that idiot just by fucking an exquisite woman, though it’s bound to help,” Vegeta said with a smirk.

She sprang out of bed, sprinted to the bathroom as she tried to lock him out. He made it through the door before she did and chuckled. Vegeta said, “I’m going to haunt you in the bathroom until you take a shit in front of me.” He wrapped around her from behind and kissed the nape of her neck. He swatted her ass and sent her to the toilet as he brushed his teeth, but he waited until she’d pissed to get in the shower.

As they got into the shower, she said, “You’re so weird, Vegeta.”

“I’m not the one who’s ashamed of my basic bodily functions,” Vegeta said with a snort.

“Just every other thing, bad man?” she said, and raised an eyebrow.

“Exactly. With good reason. At least I’m not ashamed of pissing. Just murdering my boyfriend,” Vegeta said, as he kissed her and groped her lush ass.

* * *

In between emotional torture and excellent bouts of sex with the woman, Vegeta wondered idly what effect finally getting laid would have on his training after so long without. After being distracted by the woman herself, thoughts of the woman, fantasies of the woman, for so long. It turned out that having her didn't exactly clear his mind, but his body felt better. His body felt whole again. Like it had something to fight for beyond the basic Saiyan desire for blood.

Vegeta’s blood sang all day. The woman’s heat was so strong that he could smell it anywhere except the gravity room. She told him when to be ready that evening and said she would put an “outfit” out for him, which seemed like some sort of euphemism for being dressed like a doll, but Vegeta didn’t mind. It was better than trying to figure out the fucking subtle meaning behind sleeve length and whether to tuck a shirt or not. If he ever ruled the universe, he would ban anything that wasn’t stretch. Buttons. Zippers. Snaps. So fucking annoying.

He also expected the day to drag, but it didn’t. It went so quickly that he had to hurry to shower. He put on the clothing she laid out. It was black trousers of some soft material with a matching jacket. The button down shirt was a rich, almost iridescent, bluish purple and silky. He put it all on, tucking his shirt and cinching the belt, grumbling as he shrugged into the jacket which she must’ve somehow had tailored because he had yet to see a man with Vegeta’s shoulder to waist ratio, and yet it fit perfectly.

As he slipped on the soft black leather shoes, he walked back into the bathroom to look at himself. He was shocked to see that the effect was…attractive. He supposed he’d watched too much Earth entertainment and now he internalized the idea of males wearing this type of suit as a symbol of power and wealth that matched his ideal of what he wished he was. He unbuttoned a few of the top buttons on the shirt so his pecs showed. The woman liked his pecs, probably because most Earth males didn’t seem to have them, carrying more soft flesh lower down on their chests, like females.

Vegeta stepped out into the hallway and his brow furrowed. His stomach churned and his pulse was well above even his most rigorous training. He was being absurd. It meant nothing. The woman only needed this to feel comfortable in continuing their physical relationship. Vegeta would do anything to keep that going, because gods, even if she didn’t want to be his mate, he wanted to fuck her as long as she would allow him to continue.

He took a deep breath and rubbed his temples. Vegeta knew what this was in theory from his books and the other entertainments he consumed like a starving man, but he didn’t know how to do it properly. It felt like a foreign language that he didn’t have the appropriate files to learn. He wanted to do something nice for the woman, to thank her for giving her body to him the way she had, but he also sensed that he would fuck things up and never get to have her again.

“Hey, you don’t have to look so fucking dismayed to go out with me, you know,” the woman said.

Vegeta spun, startled that she’d caught him unawares first, and then by the fact that she was somehow even more beautiful attired for their date. His mouth fell open and he stammered, “Gods…Bulma…you…wow,” he paused and tried to recover language but what came out was, “ _Oon tuv kekliqit tuv ptsela._ ”

Vegeta’s cheeks burned. He rarely spoke Saiyan, even before he’d come to Earth, but for a moment, seeing her like this, in her deep, blood red dress, the neck cowled into a soft pool on her breasts, the back held together by straps with a single rhinestone in the middle, and hugging her hips until if flared out like a petunia around her knees, it destroyed the English in his brain. She was perfect. A goddess. A queen.

She grinned, her smile like the warmth of the sun on him, and said, “Was that Saiyan? What does it mean? You look great. You clean up nice, Vegeta.” She slipped her hand into his and started leading him down the hall toward the front entrance to the house. Vegeta wondered if the woman would acknowledge him this way in front of her parents. “Well? Did you say something mean? Why aren’t you translating?” She nudged him in the side with her elbow.

“I…I forgot how. For a moment. I said ‘You’re as beautiful as the moon.’ It’s the highest Saiyan praise for beauty and elegance and poise,” Vegeta said, glancing nervously at her. He was being ridiculous, fawning over her like this, but Vegeta had never been a good liar.

“Oh jeez, Vegeta, I didn’t know you were such a poet,” the woman said. Pink bloomed across her cheeks. She leaned into his body and ran her free hand down his arm.

“What? I’m not a poet. I just…Saiyan felt more…true,” he said. Sometimes he didn’t understand her responses to the things he said. He sensed that there was still a lot lost in translation between himself and the woman. The gulf between their cultures was so vast that language alone couldn’t cross it.

She only laughed at his words but said nothing. Vegeta flushed again as Panchy ran into them and said, “Oh, my, Vegeta, aren’t you handsome all dressed up!”

Vegeta nodded stiffly, unsure what the appropriate response to that sort of comment was. The woman spoke with her mother in what sounded to Vegeta like gibberish, but it must’ve been potential locations to eat or places in the city, because the woman was very excited about the reservation she’d secured. Vegeta narrowed his eyes. What a strange place where you couldn't just eat at an establishment if you had currency. The woman spoke of having “an in” that got her the reservation.

Vegeta hadn’t ever “dined out” per se, but different teams were brought in to cook at the palace before Frieza took him away and destroyed his home. Frieza also occasionally had different chefs come in to serve them when he wanted to debase Vegeta by making him share a meal before debasing him further in Frieza’s bed. Vegeta was more excited than he wanted to admit about the prospect of going to a restaurant. Vegeta loved Earth food, despite its caloric paucity, and if this place was the sort that one needed “an in” to eat at, it was likely the best of the best. It amused Vegeta that the woman would take a brute like him to a fancy restaurant. If he’d been brought up in his palace as he should have been, it would make sense, but now he was essentially a bigger, more vicious and intelligent dog of war.

She went to get in a vehicle and he cringed. “Woman, come on, don’t make me get in that thing.”

“Vegeta, what, are you just going to fly me anywhere we go together?” she said with a little scoff.

“Yes, obviously. Why wouldn’t I?”

“Well…I…isn’t it…weird to carry me?”

“No. How ridiculous. Just direct me,” Vegeta said and pressed her against his side, this time, unlike the library, palming her ass. She laughed as they rocketed into the air and he flared his chi around her to keep her warm. She burrowed against him anyway and he turned his face into her, smelling her more, the intoxicating scent of her heat almost making him hard.

She staggered a bit when he set her down once they arrived. “Oh jeez, Vegeta, you need to fly slower. You scramble my inner ears when you go that fast.”

“What? I didn’t touch your ears. And that wasn’t fast. I practically crawled. You’re not…you’re not serious are you?” Vegeta said, horrified at the prospect of a tedious flight home. Fucking humans and their fragility. It was remarkable they could bring demi-Saiyan young into the world in their undoubtably weak wombs. A worrying thought occurred. “Is…Did…Did Kakarot’s wench birth the half-breed? Or did they use some sort of artificial womb?”

The woman’s eyebrows lifted and she tipped her head to the side. “Where the hell did _that_ come from? Do you mean did ChiChi have Gohan…vaginally?”

Vegeta said, “Is that the wench’s name? ChiChi? Doesn’t that mean pussy in one of the common Earthling tongues?”

“Vegeta! Good gods. Yes, she had Gohan naturally. I swear, some of the shit that comes out of your mouth boggles the mind,” she said and swatted his arm.

“And when you come _on_ my mouth, it boggles the mind,” Vegeta said, smirking at her as he pressed his hand to her lower back.

“Are you just going to lord it over me that I couldn’t suck you off?”

“I didn’t say a _thing_ about your attempts to perform oral sex,” Vegeta said, barely containing his mirth, because he definitely intended to torment her about that at least until he got to fuck her again.

“I am going to fucking _wreck_ you tonight, Vegeta,” the woman said and clandestinely squeezed his cock as they were led to their table.

Vegeta’s heart thundered to smell so many humans and their various responses to him, to the woman. Eyes locked on them both and he understood at once that none of these fools knew what a poor mate choice he was. They gaped and the scent of arousal swamped him. This was why the woman wanted him to do this. His physical structure made him _seem_ like a good mate. And he was good breeding stock. Nothing wrong with his genes. Just the rest of him.


	16. Etiquette

Vegeta stared in horror at the tiny lump of food in front of him. He understood the value of Earth currency, and this was an extremely expensive dish. But it seemed they’d forgotten most of it. The biggest portion was probably the artfully drizzled sauce that adorned the large plate like an abstract painting designed to distract from the utter lack of sustenance. So far Vegeta felt he’d been blending in with the foolish human population at the restaurant. He didn't want to fuck it up now, but surely this was some kind of con meant to take advantage of his ignorance.

He glanced furtively at the woman’s plate. If anything her portion was smaller. He looked at the plates he could see from his vantage without making a big show. All of them were single bites of food on absurdly oversized plates. He leaned forward and whispered, “Is…is this just a sample? Then they bring the actual food if you like it? How they did with the wine?” It rankled to have to reveal his ignorance yet again, but better than doing something that embarrassed the woman.

The woman was mincing the morsel into even smaller bits. She met his eyes with her brow furrowed quizzically. Fuck. So he was wrong. “What do you mean? That’s what you ordered, isn't it?”

Vegeta observed the tidbit. He said, trying not to let his despair and hunger turn it into a whine, “Yes…but…is this _all_ of it?”

She took a miniature bite and stared at him while she chewed. She said, “Yeah, that’s it. We can have dessert afterwards if you want.”

Vegeta would not rage that this was considered an entree. He would not pout that he would be fucking starving the rest of the night. He emulated her, and parceled into bits so small he could have eaten them through his nostril. Why did humans even have _teeth_ if this was how they ate? No chewing was necessary for this nonsense. In a few short minutes, despite all his efforts to draw it out, Vegeta was finished. His stomach was angry now. It had been teased. It had been promised food and Vegeta had betrayed it with crumbs.

The woman was still working through hers, somehow, and sipping her wine periodically, as though she needed a break from the hard work of chewing up thumbnail-sized pieces of food. Vegeta willed his stomach to stay quiet or he would murder it. He would just go hunting later that night.

Except the woman was planning on coming to his bed after this. Vegeta considered his options. He could fuck her into unconsciousness and then sneak out to hunt. But he despaired at going that long without actually eating now that his stomach was powered up and ready to go. 

“Vegeta, why are you silently looking like you might self-destruct?” the woman asked, narrowing her eyes.

“What? Nothing. I’m fine. How…how is your food?” Vegeta said, trying to think of some mundane nonsense to converse about while she finished her eternal eating. The only solution was to get her home, seduce her while ignoring his guts, and then hurry out to hunt. He grimaced at his foolish decision to eat all the rations he had in the gravity room after a meager lunch. Vegeta tried to view this as a form of training. He’d gone long stretches without food before. Of course it was awful. But Vegeta was no stranger to everything in his life sucking. At least this was just one thing.

“You are really spiraling over there. My food is fine. You’ve got that crazed look you get sometimes when you’re confused but don’t want to tell me. What’s wrong? Was your food not good? You ate it so fast, I assumed you liked it,” she said. Vegeta gaped, easily half her food remained on her overlarge, taunt of a plate. To serve such a meal on that size plate. It was mockery. Had the woman always eaten so slowly and he just never noticed?

She said, “Vegeta? Hey, bad-man, we can go if you’re freaking out.”

“I am not freaking out!” he hissed, “I’m fine. I’m…I…Yes. I'm fine. I can…I can do this.”

She set down her fork and Vegeta almost lost control of a whimper that tried to escape him. “Vegeta. Why are you talking about finishing our date as though it's some kind of endurance challenge?”

Vegeta said, “Well…I just…I just assumed there would be…be…be more! I’m not trying to be ungrateful! I just…I’m…that…is that really what humans consider a _good_ meal?” Vegeta could cry. He wouldn’t. He willed it down, but it was a possibility. It was so disappointing and it was ruining his opportunity to seem like a reasonable mate.

“Oh! Shit. I forgot the whole Saiyan-incinerator-stomach thing. Jeez. Are you getting hangry? Is that what’s happening?” the woman asked and her face contorted into a strange combination of a smile and a frown that felt…mocking.

“I…I’m just surprised that for so much currency it is…it is…this!” Vegeta made a tiny circle with his thumb and forefinger.

“Oh, yeah, we’re in full hangry territory. Okay, how about this, when I finish, if you can be a good boy the rest of _my_ meal, I’ll take you someplace that has Saiyan quantities of food. I can’t believe you have been hiding your hunger for years. It’s taking me some adjusting. Can you behave another half-hour?” the woman asked and raised an eyebrow at him.

The sneaky, conniving woman! Vegeta realized this was her vengeance for not being able to suck him off. He swallowed hard and nodded curtly. A half-hour. Vegeta could do anything for half an hour. He crossed his arms tightly, but heard the first threads pop in the suit jacket when he flexed. He consciously relaxed and said stiffly, “How…was…your day?”

The woman snorted she laughed so hard. “You’re so adorable when you try to be normal, Vegeta. I just love it.”

Vegeta’s eyes widened. She loved a part of him. Heat bloomed across his cheeks at the idea of her loving anything but his cock. Maybe his muscles. His mouth, when put to less verbal uses.

She chuckled more and took a long pull from her wine. “Oh my gods, look at your little blush. My day was fine, Vegeta. I was distracted though, thinking about last night. Thinking about tonight.”

Vegeta contemplated the various things this could mean. He said, “I…felt good today. Training. My body felt good. But my mind was…reliving things.” More heat spread on his face at the foolish admission.

The woman’s cheeks turned red too, so maybe it had been an acceptable and pleasing way to summarize his day and how she effected him. She smiled at him and ate another few ridiculous bites before she spoke again. “It’s okay, you know, to like me a little.”

“What!? I don’t like you a _little_. That’s absurd! I…I…I like you a lot!” Vegeta said, trying to keep his voice down.

She laughed at him more, but thankfully saved him from his self and his hanger by telling him about the new drone prototype she was working on that she hoped would give him new challenges. She said breezily, “Of course you could just train _with_ Goku. Maybe he can help you become super-Saiyan.”

“Oh, the nerve of you even suggesting such a thing! I will not train with that third-class clown!” Vegeta snarled.

“So…you would date and fuck a third-class relative of Goku but you won’t train with him?” The woman sniffed dramatically and said, “I smell hypocrisy.”

“Why you…I…just…that…Raditz…Raditz was a different matter! And stop bringing him up!” Vegeta hissed.

“Is it possible you’re just trying to find excuses not to train with Goku because it might make you feel…inferior?” the woman said and arched a brow at him.

Vegeta ground his teeth. He stared at her until her eyes finally darted away as he bit out, “I _already_ feel inferior to fucking Kakarot. I do not wish to have it rubbed in my face every fucking day when he trounces me!”

“Vegeta, you’ll never get better if you don’t challenge yourself,” the woman countered.

“Oh, you are just fucking infuriating! I thought this sort of thing, dining out with a…a…a person…was supposed to be _enjoyable_?”

“Uh-oh, you are hangry. The stammering has started. The infuriation. It’s all here. Okay, I’ll get the check and then I’ll go feed you,” the woman said, grinning, and waved her hand at the waiter. “Well, at least I got to bring my pretty pet out for show a little bit.”

Vegeta bristled at being called her pet. Though it was unfortunately accurate. She kept him and fed him and tried to train him. “Was it supposed to be longer? All the women and a few of the men have sufficiently ogled me, haven’t they? What else would have happened if my starvation hadn’t interrupted?” Vegeta said, “I hate human culture. Everything is so fucking confusing!”

“Now that I know how squishy you are inside, I find your constant belligerence kind of cute,” the woman said, “Nothing else is _necessary,_ gods, Vegeta, but it’s supposed to be _fun_. If you weren’t a crier, I might have taken you out for a cocktail or something afterwards, but your record on crying while drunk is too solid. And you’re too heavy in the event that you got soused. This was fine. You did great. You didn't murder anyone. You kept your yelling to me, your date and the woman you’re fucking, which for humans would be considered in poor taste, but I see it as progress. You dressed in what I told you to wear. You look dapper. You really did a great job for your first night on the town.” The woman gave him a defiant smirk. She was baiting him. He loved it. Her ferocity was her sexiest feature.

Vegeta kicked off his shoe beneath the table. He slid his foot up the inside of her thigh and gently brushed his toes over her pussy. Even through his sock he could feel she wasn’t wearing undergarments! Her eyes widened and she squeaked. Vegeta leaned forward again, looking in her eyes. He waited for the server to take the woman's plastic currency transfer card. A sheen of sweat formed along her hairline. He murmured, “You know, Frieza used to call Saiyans monkeys because of our Oozaru form. He used it as a pejorative, but monkeys on Earth impress me. They’re strong, relative to their size. They'll eat almost anything. They will use wits to escape larger, stronger predators. And they are dextrous. Even their _feet_ are dextrous.” Vegeta sent a little burst of chi out his toes, buzzing it against her lips.

“Stop it,” she whispered. Vegeta smirked and wiggled his toes fast, not parting her lips, but he didn’t need to yet. Her cheeks pinked and her chest too. She gasped, “Vegeta! This is…so…so…so…” She pressed her hands flat on the table as he nudged her lips apart with his toe.

“Woman…why did you dress this way if you didn’t intend for me to do this. You’re the one who says these, what do you call them—panties?—you wear are important, so I assume if you chose _not_ to wear them and to wear a dress, that it was for this exact purpose. Perhaps even so that other things might find their way between your sweet thighs,” Vegeta said. 

The woman panted and the waiter brought a little leather folio back to her. He said, “Ms. Briefs, are you well?”

“Oh, fine, yes. Thank you,” she said and gave him a strained smile. The man went away, looking unsure. The woman returned her full attention to Vegeta and hissed, “Do not think for a second that you are _winning_. I will not do what you are trying to make me do while sitting in a fancy restaurant!”

“I know we took a break from our lessons last night, woman, but do you know one of the more interesting things about excellent chi control?” Vegeta said with a polite smile.

The woman covered her mouth to try to stifle what was obviously a moan as Vegeta’s toe found her clit, pressing and releasing it rapidly. She swallowed hard and squeezed her thighs shut around his foot. It did nothing to deter him. She said, “I’m not letting you win. You’re not going to win. I am not…oh fuck…what…what were you saying about chi?”

Vegeta purred, “Mmm…well, I can use it to make parts of my body almost…vibrate…if you will.” Vegeta sent a thrumming wave of chi into his toe until it buzzed against her clit like one of the vibrating sex accoutrements he’d read about. 

The woman folded her elbows on the table, rolling her lips in to stifle her cries. Her hips belied her though, and rocked toward Vegeta’s foot. She whispered, “Oh shit, Vegeta…you’re not…you’re not actually going to…it’s…it’s not possible to make me come in a restaurant. It’s not. Nope. You can’t. You…ah…ah…” She clamped a hand over her mouth and her chair almost tipped as her hips bucked forward and he felt the clenching of her pussy against his toe as she climaxed for him.

Vegeta stroked her a bit more, pulled his foot away, and put on his shoe. He smirked at her and said, “I _win_ again.”

The woman caught her breath through her nose and he saw her try to master her lower body, which squirmed in her chair. She glanced around with wide eyes, clearly wondering if anyone had noticed. She got a few questioning looks, but no overt realization of what had just transpired. It was lucky humans had negligible olfaction, however, because to Vegeta’s Saiyan nose, the whole restaurant smelled deliciously of her arousal and pussy and heat. It even dampened his hunger.

The woman muttered, “Oh my fucking gods, I can’t believe you did that!” Her voice was a mix of excitement and horror.

Vegeta shrugged. “You said you had another place where I might get a proper meal if I was…what did you say? A good boy? Was I good boy, _Bulma?_ ” he growled in the low voice he intended to make full use of now that he knew the effect it had on her.

She tried not to smile. “You shit! That was embarrassing! Bad man! Bad, bad, bad man!” she chided, but she was laughing. “I can’t believe you did that! I can’t believe you _could_ do that. What are you, some kind of Prince of Sex too?”

Vegeta chortled at that. His stomach roared back to its former angry, hangry, hungry screaming. “Well? Are you going to feed me or not? I’m not above eating humans, woman.”

She lifted an eyebrow at him and said, “Yeah, you showed me that last night.”

“Vulgar woman,” Vegeta rumbled out, enjoying the flush that crept up her chest onto her cheeks again. He hoped she’d let him give her some flying lessons tonight. He had ideas that he would enact if he could get a proper meal first. 

She stood up adjusting her dress and the way she ran her hand over her own ass almost caused Vegeta to start cackling. She was checking to see if her wetness had seeped through the back of her dress.

He stood and trailed her out of the restaurant, enjoying the view of her ass, the scent of her pussy, and the elegant line of her spine. As she directed him to the restaurant she assured him would have enough food, she tried to give him a subtle hand-job. Vegeta certainly got a hard-on. Just smelling the woman gave him a hard-on, but now that she was out for blood (or semen, more accurately) he was enjoying withholding it for his own amusement. Let her stroke his cock all night.

She had him land at a type of restaurant that she called a “buffet.” Vegeta knew that word, though he tended to think of it as furniture, but when she explained the principle, he began to salivate. They went in, and he could tell they were extremely overdressed, but he didn’t care when he saw the long spread of food. The host explained how everything worked and Vegeta’s stomach was screaming for the man to shut up and let him eat.

And he did. With great delight and more than a little gawking at his consumption even though he tried to eat at what he thought was more human-ish speed. The woman looked delighted by his pleasure as she watched, but didn’t partake. She said, “Well, I guess if I can’t get you off, at least I can feed you.”

“Of course you can get me off. I _could_ have come in my trousers, I just chose not to because it would have made a fucking mess, for one thing, but I also enjoy teasing you.”

“How is you resisting orgasm teasing _me_?” she asked, canting her head to the side. Her hair was wild now after two flights. Vegeta liked it wild. It fit her personality more than when it was tidy and coiffed.

“Because you are accustomed to being able to get whatever you want with hard work and intelligence. You won’t get _that_ unless I give it to you. It irritates the piss out of you to not get what you want.”

“I—“ she started to protest, but snapped her mouth shut. She thought for a moment and said, “You…sometimes you sound mean, but then when I actually process what you’ve said, it’s more like a compliment and—“

“That was very much a compliment. Your perseverance is remarkable. Your tenacity. Your courage,” Vegeta said, inhaling another plate. He wanted them to refill the buffet. The host came over and whispered something to the woman and she muttered something back and handed him the plastic currency card again. 

“So unwittingly sweet,” she said and squeezed his knee under the table.

“It’s not unwitting!” he snapped, “I mean to tell you that I think highly of your many positive attributes. I would never _accidentally_ compliment someone, I assure you. I might accidentally _insult_ you because I don’t understand all the nonsense on this ridiculous planet.”

The woman laughed and said, “So you gonna finish teaching me to fly tonight?”

“Well, I can get you off the ground, but it’s unlikely that it will be under your own power,” he said, letting his eyes run over her body.

“You did get me off last night, it’s true, even off the ground, so I’m sure you can manage again,” she said.

“And do you want me to do so tonight? Or have you had enough of me for one day and you’ll only accept the results of our wager and sleep in my bed?” Vegeta asked. The food was gone. So were all the other people. “Did I eat it all?”

“It seems so. It’s fine. Let’s head home. Are you less hangry?”

“Yes. That was a reasonable amount of food. Thank you. For taking care of me,” Vegeta said. He wondered if he could kiss her. Was that part of the whole pact of her taking him out in public? He touched her chin as she stood and placed a soft, chaste kiss on her lips.

When he pulled back, she looked so flabbergasted that Vegeta knew immediately he had erred. She said, “That was unexpectedly affectionate. I should feed you properly more often.”

“Is…do…do…do you like affection?” he asked.

The woman looked sad now, her eyebrows crashing together and her eyes searching his. “Of course I like affection. Don't you?”

“I…guess…so?” Vegeta said, warily. Was this some sort of trap to get him to confess how much he longed to be her mate? That he wanted to shower her with affection. That he would roll in her affection like a pig in a good wallow if she offered it.

She placed a hand on his forearm, concern creasing her brow now. Gods, he was just putting her through the gamut of emotions tonight when all he wanted was to make her happy. She said, “It’s okay to want affection, Vegeta. It doesn’t make you weak or anything. It’s okay to let people care for you.”

“It has never turned out well for anyone in the past,” Vegeta said.

“But maybe it’s like your dumb ass with food. Maybe if you get better at using your words instead of spiraling into despair internally, then you’ll be better at feelings and stuff too. I have faith that you can stop being a hot mess,” she said so sweetly that it took him a moment to realize she was calling him a hot mess.

“I…wait…what? No, damnit, that…you never speak plainly and I find it fucking maddening!” Vegeta snapped.

“Aw, maybe you do need dessert. Come on. Take me home. Do you need directions or can you find it with your Saiyan senses?”

Vegeta scooped her up and flew toward Capsule Corp. Having gotten what he was fairly certain was a positive reaction to the earlier affection, he nuzzled against her neck and ear, nibbling the lobe a bit, and he growled, “You look beautiful with your hair all wild. Thank you for the food. For giving me your pleasure in the restaurant.” Then he sped up so she wouldn’t be able to speak. And if she couldn’t balance when they landed, well then he would simply have to hold her up. And he didn’t mind at all. 


	17. Flight

The woman did lack balance when he set her down, tipping back against him. He kissed her thoroughly, cupping her lush ass in his hands, moving the fabric of her dress out of his way.

“Vegeta! What…what if someone sees!?” the woman screeched. 

“I fucked you in this very spot last night!” he complained, but dropped the fabric underneath his hands.

The woman was panting and rutting against him in no time. She shoved at the jacket and he let it fall back off his arms. As she began unbuttoning him, he said against her lips, “Are you ready to learn to fly? To get off the ground?”

She slapped his pecs with both hands. Gods he loved when she hit him, pathetic though the blows were, the courage and audacity was so fucking hot that he got hard. “Oh fine, teach me to fly. You tease me,” she said and rolled her hips against his, “with this and then suggest we fly. Fine. I don’t need your prick.” She shoved her hand into his pants and stroked him.

“It was a question, you know. I gave you options. And you say _I’m_ the belligerent one. Are _you_ hangry after only eating the leavings of a real meal?”

The woman laughed and struck him again. His cock twitched and her eyes widened. “Do you _like_ it when I hit you?”

He shrugged and said, “I told you I like your fearlessness. Not many people have hit me and lived to talk about it, let alone fucked me afterwards.”

She looked him up and down. “Hmm…well…that’s giving me some…ideas.”

Vegeta smirked and kissed her more. He said, “Are you going to share those ideas? Or are we going to pretend you want to fly?”

“I do want to fly. Maybe if you’re a good boy and get me off the ground, I’ll tell you,” she said and popped open another of his buttons as she removed her hand from his trousers.

He wrapped his broader body around behind her slender one, grinding his cock in her ass a little. She pressed back toward the friction. He let his chi thrum into her body. She gasped as he directed it to move them both up off the ground, though he wasn’t lifting her with his physical body. He murmured against her ear, “Do you feel it? Do you see what I’m trying to show you?”

Her head lolled back against his shoulder and she panted, “Are you…are you trying to make me come again or is that…is that accidental?”

Vegeta smirked and kissed the turn of her jaw, down her neck. “I don’t know what you’re talking about…” He directed chi toward her nipples until he could watch them stiffen beneath the fabric of her dress. She moaned and bucked back toward his prick. He pulsed it down into her core and her clit.

“Oh fuck, Vegeta, you…you don’t…you don’t play fair. Can…can you fuck me while you do that?” the woman said.

Vegeta’s eyebrows shot up, but he took good opportunities when he got them. He shoved his pants down and pushed the fabric of her dress up with one hand. The other he spread wide on her belly to be able to better direct his chi while he was distracted by his own pleasure. He whispered, “Arch that sweet ass back against me.” She obeyed and he guided himself inside her already quivering heat, so slick that he moaned. He couldn’t help his smirk as he purred, “Such a good girl.”

She laughed, but flailed around trying to move when she had nothing solid to push against. He briefly considered letting her flounder around until she begged, but he wanted to fuck her, so he wrapped his other hand around her hip and started driving into her roughly.

“Fuck, oh Kami, yes, Vegeta!” She wrapped her arm up over his head, opening her neck so he could suck and kiss along its beautiful length. To amuse her, he made them float higher, until the ground was far below them.

He tightened his abs to fuck up into her as he let his chi flood into her pelvis. It felt great for him too, making her insides hum, and she was so close that her pussy clenched him with every thrust. He wanted to touch her though. He used the hand on her belly to crawl the front of her dress up and he slipped it beneath the soft fabric, into her blue curls. He pushed her lips apart and put his fingers, all of them, on her wet folds as he slammed his prick into her. He loved the tactile sensation of his cock sliding in and out of her.

“Vegeta…fuck…I’m…Ah! Are…are you close?” the woman gasped.

“Oh? Would you like me to come inside you? To fill your perfect, tight pussy?” Vegeta rumbled out, feeling her response to his voice.

“Fuck me deep and come with me,” she commanded and surprised him as she mastered her chi just enough to push back against him on her own a bit. He assisted her, one hand on her hip, one on her pussy, and slammed his cock deep inside her as her core seized and clenched.

“Bulma, oh fuck, yes, you feel incredible!” Vegeta panted out and rutted on her more, sliding his fingers back and forth on her clit. She screamed his name again and again, one of her hands clawing at his ass, the other tangled and tugging his hair. “You’re so fucking perfect,” he growled as he buried his face in her hair, smelling her, scenting the woman he wanted as his mate.

When her orgasm petered out, she went limp in his arms, so he drifted back down to his balcony. She staggered off his cock and spun in his arms, kissing him fiercely. It startled him because it was so affectionate. So…unnecessary. He took it though, wrapping her in his arms and holding her.

She threaded her fingers into his hair again, yanking him closer. She gasped against his lips, “That was amazing. You…have a lot of tricks, you know that? You don’t play fair.”

“No, that’s not what I’m known for,” Vegeta said, smirking against her as he kissed down her lovely throat. He hooked his arm under her ass and carried her into the bathroom, setting her on the toilet. She laughed and he said, “You laugh, but I’m serious, I put up with enough of Earth’s gender nonsense that I’m not willing to put up with this.” When she peed almost immediately he clapped and said, “Oh, you are such a good girl tonight.”

She chuckled and finished. He followed her and said, “Well, now that I’ve tamed your libido temporarily, do you want me to try to teach you to fly for real? I don’t mind if you just want to ride my prick every time you wish to be airborne.”

The woman smacked his shoulder, but cracked up when he gestured to his dick coming back to life in response. “You’ll have to stop hitting me, woman, if you want to do anything but get railed.”

Once he finished pissing, they headed back outside. He talked her through directing her own chi again and she got more than her dress up. Her feet lifted off the ground the tiniest amount and she screeched, “Vegeta! Look, look, look!” She immediately dropped back to the ground without a bit of grace.

Vegeta couldn’t help his laughter. She swatted his arm and he fell over dramatically. She chuckled and said, “You’re just such a dick!”

“Well, you don’t seem to mind. Not much incentive for me to change, is it?” Vegeta said and cupped his cock in his hand, giving it a suggestive squeeze.

“And you call me vulgar. Okay. Stop distracting me, bad man, and I’m going to try to go a little higher,” the woman said and crept aloft.

“You’ll be flying over uneven sidewalks in no time, woman,” Vegeta said and smirked.

She drifted toward him at such a glacial pace that he completely lost his composure, cracking up until he was bent over as he inched out of her range. They kept it up for a little bit, with her chasing him like an airborne sloth, and him easily avoiding her. Finally she managed a small burst of speed and landed in his arms.

He dared more affection and gave her a kiss, tucking her hair behind her ear, caressing the soft skin of the edge of her ear. “Very good, woman. Now, technically speaking, I believe you have to concede defeat and acknowledge my superiority as a teacher,” Vegeta purred, smirking at her, and smelling her arousal respond to his voice.

The woman unbuckled him, unbuttoned him, and slowly dragged down his zipper. She whispered, “I will never acknowledge defeat, Vegeta. I can be a stubborn motherfucker too, and I would like to point out that _that_ was not flying. So you suck.” But the woman smiled and kissed him more, shoving his shirt back off his shoulders, nipping each one. Vegeta had a weakness for biting. He sucked in air through his teeth.

The woman noticed, as he hoped she would, and she bit the meat of his pec, nibbled up his neck, and onto his ear. “Man, Vegeta, the way you hiss when I bite you kind of turns me on. And you like being hit…It’s making me have some pretty vulgar thoughts.”

He slipped the straps of her dress off her shoulders and undid the little hooks cleverly hidden under the rhinestones on the back, until it fell off her beautiful body, leaving her naked. He said, “You keep acting like I’m the squeamish one, when you literally wouldn’t piss in front of me, whereas I have fucked my way around the universe. If you have a fantasy, woman, let me assure you I will make it come true.” He twisted her nipples and slid his cock between her upper thighs, slowly dragging it back and forth.

Her eyes widened and she whispered, “You mean that, don’t you?”

“Very. The least I can do to thank you for all you’ve done for me is to pleasure you in any way you desire,” Vegeta said, hoping she didn’t hit on the very few kinks he was not amenable to that he’d encountered in his time soldiering.

The woman groped his ass and her cheeks turned deep red as she said, “Did you…did you ever, um, like, like bottom? For Raditz?”

Vegeta canted his head to the side. “Of course, we switched depending on our mood. A few others before him, though I’m definitely more…toppish. Why?” Vegeta asked. He liked where this was going very much.

“Well…on Earth…Sometimes a woman uses a toy and can…can…um…sort of…” She trailed off turning absolutely purple.

Vegeta smirked and moved his head to look her in the eye. “A strap on? So you can peg me? Is that what you’re blushing about?”

She gaped and blinked for a long moment. “You…people in space do that?”

Vegeta chuckled and said, “Woman, people in space do _everything_. You would like to peg me? Bite my ass a bit, maybe? Slap it as hard as your weakling human arms can manage?” Her continual blush delighted him, but the sparkle in her eyes told him he had hit on her fantasy. “I assume from your very deep flush that you haven’t pegged anyone before?”

“Oh my gods, no, Yamcha would have died if I even suggested such a thing,” the woman said, laughing, and her blush diminished some.

“Why?” Vegeta asked.

“Oh, well…I mean…maybe the patriarchy? Toxic masculinity?”

“What does that mean? Is…are…do…do Earthlings have toxic pegs? That seems very…fucked up. I don’t think I saw poisoned pegs anywhere, so I guess you Earthlings can still surprise me with your sexual nonsense. You may _not_ peg me with a poisoned peg, just a regular one, though you can choose it beyond the no-toxins rule,” Vegeta said, dismayed that all of Earth’s unique sexual things seemed to be terrible.

“What!? No! Of course we don’t use poisoned pegs! I just meant it would threaten his masculinity if I suggested putting anything in his ass, so I never—“

Vegeta’s face crumpled in confusion and he interrupted again, “But…does…do human males not have prostates?”

The woman giggled and she said, “No, they do. I don’t know, Vegeta, I can’t always explain our cultural stuff to you!”

“Well, I don’t care, I don’t want to be a party to this patriarchy you blame for so much of your nonsense. You can peg me, woman. I would love to have you just ravish me,” Vegeta said, giving her a squeeze. “Is that what you’d like to do now that you’re so proud of your two inches of flight?”

The woman palmed his ass more aggressively and said, “I don’t have the necessary equipment to peg you, Vegeta, or I would pound you for all your impertinence.”

“Oh dear, are you going to punish me, beautiful?” Vegeta said, smirking.

“I am. I’m going to get a huge peg and fuck you until you stop being so fucking smug,” the woman said, flexing her thighs to squeeze his prick.

“That sounds like an excellent response to me being smug. For now, woman, I’ll be collecting my winnings from our little wager. My bed awaits your lovely presence. And until you get that peg, I believe the fucking will all go one direction,” Vegeta said and picked her up, making her squeal as he hiked up so he could lick her pussy while he carried her to his bed. “I want to be properly smug to assure you’ll really rail me, so I’ll have to get you off a lot tonight.” He let his tongue play back and further over her clit as her thighs clamped on his head. Vegeta would enjoy rendering her speechless the rest of the night, every night, until she begged him to stop.


	18. New Lessons

Vegeta and the woman kept fucking, day after day, night after night, and Vegeta, for first time since before his fight with Raditz in that awful inn, felt the flutterings of real happiness. It terrified him. Vegeta knew he would fuck it up. He fucked everything up. But he tried, like walking a tight rope, to hide his insecurity and keep up the semblance of confidence that might lead her to take him as mate. To take whatever she gave him.

After almost two weeks of fucking constantly, day and night, one night she asked if they could simply sleep because she was tired. Vegeta, internally, squealed. Not that he didn’t want to fuck her, or get pegged, since she still hadn’t come through on that promise, but because he didn’t think humans slept together without fucking if there was no affection. It felt like she cared for him, to sleep in his arms with no sexual gratification.

Their flying lessons were stalled, however, and it frustrated Vegeta to no end. He was more invested than he realized in proving to her that he was _useful_. That he had something, anything, to offer, besides his body. Vegeta sensed that she could manage her chi well enough to actually get off the damned ground, so he wasn’t sure why she refused to actually fly.

The night after they simply slept together, Vegeta was feeling out her chi to suss out whether there was an issue preventing flight, when his face split open in a huge smile. Because it wasn’t _just_ her chi anymore. There was another chi, microscopic, but _growing,_ inside her. No wonder she was tired. He would have to be more careful of her body, as he wasn’t sure if human cervixes and uteruses were strong enough to come through Saiyan fucking without risk of miscarriage. He assumed she hadn’t told him yet because she was waiting to be sure it held. It wasn’t uncommon amongst Saiyans to wait to announce the pregnancy until the first few months had passed.

“What are you smiling about?” the woman asked. 

Vegeta wasn’t sure what the etiquette of breeding was on this stupid planet, but he assumed since she fucked him without verbally acknowledging her wish to be bred, that this was like urination, something women did quietly due to their bizarre shame about bodily functions. He would wait for her to tell him. That was how it was done with unmated pairs that decided to breed on Vegeta-sei, as it was the woman’s decision whether to involve the father or not. Whether to ask him to mate, or not. They could celebrate properly when and if she asked him to be their protector, if not her mate. 

He said, “You are refusing to fly higher because you’re scared.”

“What!?” the woman said, far more indignant than he expected, and she dropped gracelessly to the ground from the measly amount of height she had attained. “You asshole!”

“Go fucking higher. I will catch you if you lose control. Don’t you trust me to at least prevent you from injuring yourself?” Vegeta said, crossing his arms and raising an eyebrow at her.

She walked over to wrap her arms around his neck. “I trust you a lot more than that, Vegeta. I just…I don’t know. It’s really hard even to do this, if I go higher, it’s…well…I…”

“If you don’t try something, you’ve already failed,” Vegeta said, as haughtily as possible. Perhaps he would finally goad the woman into pegging him if he was smug enough.

“Gods, what are you, an after school special?” the woman said and rolled her eyes at him, but she smiled and floated up off the ground a few inches.

Vegeta stammered, “What? I…no? I don’t think I am, but I don’t know what that means. I’ve never been to school, so I don’t think—“

“Shut up, Vegeta,” she said and smacked his shoulder hard, for her, so he at least felt it.

“I don’t think I will. You’ll have to _make_ me shut up later,” Vegeta purred and slid his fingers in the leg of her shorts, brushing her panty line, sneaking just the edge of his fingers inside it.

“Not helpful!” she cried.

“What would you like as your reward if you actually get, say, three meters, off the ground?” Vegeta asked, and took his fingers away, because he could smell she was getting aroused. He wanted to tease her.

She bit her lower lip and blushed, but a big smile broke open on her face. “Well…I did procure certain _equipment_ , if you know what I mean?”

“Do you mean you’re finally going to rail me?” Vegeta said, smirking at her as she went a little higher at his words.

Her flush deepened and she nodded. “Are you serious? You’ll really let me do that?”

“I’m serious that I would greatly enjoy you pegging me as hard as your weakling human body can manage,” Vegeta said and groped her ass.

“You’re such an asshole,” the woman said, laughing.

“I feel as though I need to remind you that I do _have_ an asshole, so you should put it to some use. Teasing me that way, bringing it up and then leaving me un-pegged. Torture, woman. I was quite looking forward to you attempting to bruise my ass with your delicate hands.”

His goading was working and she rose higher still in the air until she was almost a full meter off the balcony. She said, “You’ll have to…you know…walk me through it. I don’t want to do a bad job.”

“I’ll train you properly. I think we’ve established that I’m the superior teacher, between the two of us,” Vegeta said, leaning back against the balustrade as she drifted up slower than he thought physically possible, but at least she _was_ going higher.

“Ha! Maybe I’m just a _superior_ student. I think that’s more likely. Look, though, I’m almost really flying!”

“Nothing that speed could possibly be categorized as flying. You could probably achieve this amount of lift with flatulence,” Vegeta said, knowing any reference to bodily functions would fluster her.

“Gross! I don’t…Yuck! You are just—“

“Were you going to say you don’t fucking _fart_? You’re a ridiculous creature, woman,” Vegeta said and chortled, “You think you’re sneaky, but Saiyan olfaction…” Vegeta tapped his nose and the woman turned purple.

“You stupid jerk!” the woman said, but she laughed. “Oh my gods, I’m so embarrassed.”

“Yes, nothing more shameful than digestion. You ought to try to be less immoral, gods, the way you obtain nutrients from your food is positively disgraceful. How do you live with yourself?” Vegeta said, barely keeping his laughter in check.

“Stop making fun of me! I’m glad farting is rude around people, it stinks!”

“Agreed. But one should be allowed to be at ease with one’s…” Vegeta trailed off. He almost said mate. He wondered how the woman categorized him in her head.

The woman swallowed hard and said, “Yeah, fine, I see your point. Still. I don’t want people farting around me, even if it is because of the patriarchy. Is this high enough to count? Do I get to peg you?”

“No, I don’t think so. You’re being a coward. I’m changing my metric to toughen you up. Higher, faster,” Vegeta growled, trying to deny his disappointment that she hadn’t clarified how she viewed him. Surely she wanted him as a protector for her and their offspring, or she wouldn’t have kept fucking him after being bred. Although she did enjoy the way he fucked her, so perhaps he was more utilitarian than a protector even. She was very close with the clown, perhaps she foresaw the stronger Saiyan being her protector. Vegeta was just a sperm donor since the idiot already had a mate. A sperm donor that she enjoyed fucking.

Vegeta formed a chi ball beneath her and made it float up near her bare feet. Her eyes widened before they snapped to meet his and she hissed, “You asshole! Don’t you dare!”

Vegeta raised an imperious eyebrow and smirked, moving his hand slightly so it got closer to her soles. 

“Motherfucker!” she screeched, but went up much faster.

“I already told you that I did _not_ do that, and I resent you continuing to imply I would engage in incest. Even spacefaring peoples have _some_ scruples. Good gods, woman, the filthy mind on you—“

“You son of a fucking bitch!”

“Oh? Now you’re insulting my mother. Very mature,” Vegeta said, his laughter escaping despite himself. The woman was nearly three meters in the air.

“Fine, if you’re going to be this smug, I will godsdamned show you!” The woman actually moved up slightly faster.

“There you go, woman, that’s a slug-defeating pace. You probably could best a millipede, or a half-full helium balloon. No one will stand in your way with speed faster than a wave in a highly viscous liquid,” Vegeta taunted.

The woman hadn’t looked down until that moment, and when she did, he saw her panic. Felt her chi completely bottom out. She was only five meters in the air, but a fall like that would kill a human. Before she lost more than an inch, he had her, tight in his arms. She punched his shoulder. Her pulse roared so loudly he could hear it as well as feel it.

Then she curled into his arms, kissed his neck, and whispered, “Ugh, you asshole, thank you for saving me.”

He chuckled. He turned into her face and she met his kiss. After a heated moment, the scent of her arousal and her pregnancy pooling around them in the still air, Vegeta pulled back. He looked into her eyes and said, “No, thank you for saving me.”

“What? I didn’t save you,” the woman said, her gaze fearless and beautiful as ever.

“Yes, you did, woman. You saved me from myself. From my misery. Nothing I can do could ever repay what you’ve done for me,” Vegeta whispered, his voice shaking.

She lunged up and kissed him roughly, clutching his face, and tipping her body until she could wrap her legs around him. “You want me to fuck you, bad man?”

“Yes, I have been a very bad man,” Vegeta said with a little smirk.

She kissed him more and he lowered her down to the ground. He carried her into the bedroom. “Do I get to see the peg? Assure myself that it’s not poisoned? Or are you going to tie me up and blindfold me. Gag me. I have been very, very naughty.”

She grinned and kissed him more. “If I had Saiyan-proof restraints, I would love to tie you up, but as it is, I think that it wouldn’t feel the same knowing you could escape whenever you wanted.”

“Mmm…well…maybe I would be a good boy for you…” Vegeta purred, licking up her neck and swirling his tongue in her ear.

“One kink at a time, bad man, this is already very, very wild for me,” she said and took his hand, led him toward the bed. “Plus, I _might_ already be working on some Saiyan-resistant restraints. Might. You’ll have to be a good boy if you want to find out.”

Vegeta groped her ass and said, “No, I don’t think I will be a good boy,” and dropped to his knees behind her as she bent to get something out of the bedside table on her side of the bed. 

She yelped as he yanked her shorts down and dragged his tongue over her asshole. “What the hell, Vegeta!?” the woman screeched.

“Does it not feel good?” Vegeta murmured, palming her cheeks to spread them.

“I…It’s…I don’t know!” she said, flustered and flushing as she looked back at him. 

“How can you possibly want to fuck my ass when you’re this uncomfortable with your own?”

“Why do you always make _me_ feel like a deviant for being…I don’t know…not…not…not kinky!” the woman asked, laughing.

“If you don’t want me to rim you, I won’t rim you. But know that I would _like_ to rim you.”

“But, I, am, weren’t…I thought we were, you know, I thought…”

“Woman, have we ever just crawled in bed, I ram my cock in you, and then we’re through?”

“Well…no…I mean…just…shouldn’t…shouldn’t I rim you?”

Vegeta’s eyebrows shot up. That was an unexpected response. “You can rim me, of course, but I want this, so unless you object, I’m going to start our fun this way,” he said and pushed her until she was bent over the bed so he could really spread her open.

“Oh!” she squawked.

He chuckled against her ass, but his tongue kept moving up and down over her opening. She was tense and motionless. He whispered, “Relax, at least _try_ to enjoy yourself, or tell me to stop. I don’t want you to simply _endure_.”

“Okay, no, I’m not…I’m curious…” She stretched her upper body on the bed.

Vegeta said, “Hold your ass open for me,” and placed her hands on her cheeks. He snaked an arm between her legs and ran his thumb up her folds, parting them once he reached her curls. He trailed it gently back until his fingertips were on her clit and he pushed his thumb shallowly inside her, pulsing it deeper and deeper. She gasped and tugged herself open more for his tongue. 

He twisted his tongue on her pucker as he thrust his thumb farther inside her pussy, reaching for the spot inside her that she loved so well. He moved his fingers side to side on her clit, but fast enough that it was almost vibrating. He didn’t want to be outdone by one of her toys. She moaned and tried to tuck her hips to get more friction as he kept it fairly light.

“That’s a good girl,” Vegeta purred against her ass. He probed her entrance, curious if it would make her tense up again, as she had finally relaxed for his mouth. She didn’t clench up, so he drove inside her the slightest bit.

She groaned, “Oh…sweet gods…”

Vegeta grinned and gave her more pressure on her clit as he slipped his tongue deeper inside her ass. She cried out and her pussy was already twitching for him. He loved how she responded to him, as though the thought of him touching her body was all the foreplay she needed. He slammed his thumb against the spot. She whimpered and writhed trying to drive her hips down onto his hand. He fingered her pussy harder and tongue-fucked her ass deeper, faster.

She cried out, an almost pained sound, and Vegeta moaned as all of her—her ass, her pussy, her folds—all of it shivered and clenched and seized for him. She wailed and her body surged in different directions, clearly wanting more of everything Vegeta was giving her. He gave her more until the last tremors of pleasure wracked her body, then eased his thumb and tongue out of her.

“Oh my fucking gods…I did not understand the appeal of the back door until now,” she panted out, collapsed on the edge of the bed on her knees.

He washed his face and his hand and returned to her drooping form. He lifted her onto the bed and said, “Did I wear you out? Too tired to peg?”

“Gods, I am really tired, but not _that_ tired,” she held up her brand new strap-on with obvious pride.

“I’m pleased that you didn’t get a toxic peg,” Vegeta said with a grin as he sniffed it.

“Toxic pegs aren’t a thing!” the woman said with a chuckle. 

“Which sounds exactly what someone who was going to use their male-specific poison on me would say. I had to be sure. If anyone could devise a peg that would only kill Saiyan men, it would be you, with your genius and your perversions, like your _digestion._ Gods. Fucking deviant,” Vegeta said, kissing her deeply and helping her buckle into her strap-on, adjusting it.

She looked confused by the apparatus, so Vegeta took the opportunity to shove her on her back and spread her legs. He licked her pussy, still wet and swollen from coming. She moaned and threw her head back. “Woman, you are wanton tonight. Did all that flying get your blood up?” Vegeta wondered if she was simply hornier than usual due to the pregnancy, but he had no idea whether that was the sort of thing that human women experienced.

“I think _you_ get my blood up, Vegeta,” she said.

He swirled his tongue on her clit, but paused to lick the peg, getting it wet. “I think I might actually be getting your blood down,” he paused to suck her engorged clit, “Quite a lot of blood pooled here, woman."

She groaned, “Stop, Vegeta, I want to fuck you tonight too and you’re going to wear me out. Do I…do I like…finger you first?”

“It is more polite pegging etiquette to prep the receiver, but I’ll be fine if you don’t. I’m very resilient. I can also prep myself,” Vegeta said. She hadn’t picked a particularly large peg, which was fine. Vegeta hadn’t gotten fucked in a very long time.

“I’ve…I’ve never done that either,” she said. Vegeta pulled off her pussy and got the lube.

Vegeta held it up and said, “What would you prefer? Me or you? Good gods, woman, you are horny, aren’t you?” Vegeta watched hungrily as she squirmed once he took his mouth away. It was hot watching her move so hungrily in the harness, like the thought of fucking him was making her this way.

“I…I didn’t think I was, but…fuck…” The woman’s hand drifted down onto her clit. 

Vegeta sat back on his haunches, palming his prick, and said, “Fuck yes, woman, let me watch.”

She met his eyes, hers hazy with lust. She whispered, “It’s not weird?”

“No, it’s fucking hot. Touch yourself for me,” Vegeta said. 

She watched him run his hand up and down his prick as she spread her lips more, pushing her middle and ring finger against her clit. She moved them in tight circles and tightened her ass, thrusting up toward her own hand, and the peg bobbed in the air. The sight made Vegeta hunger to get fucked. 

She whispered, “I’ve never done this in front of anyone.”

“Are you going to finger yourself for me?” Vegeta purred.

“Do you really want me to fuck you?” she gasped and brought her other hand down. She thrust her fingers inside herself. 

“Gods, yes, Bulma,” Vegeta growled, adding her name for emphasis, something he rarely did, and it had the intended effect.

She slammed her fingers inside herself and he watched her pussy clench and tighten as she came, gasping, “Prep yourself, I want to fuck you…Oh gods, hurry up, Vegeta!”

Vegeta’s eyebrows shot up and he smirked. He slicked the peg with lube and fingered himself a bit, shivering at the delicious intrusion, but too eager to get fucked to bother with much prep. He said, “How do you want me?”

“What?”

“What position? You want me on my knees? On my back? My belly? You’re topping me, woman, take charge,” Vegeta said and kissed her as she fussed with the harness, tightening it. It was clear she was nervous. He whispered, “It will feel good no matter what, stop worrying.”

Her eyes snapped up to his and she said, “We could maybe do it again sometime?”

“Of course. Unless the peg is poisoned, then this is probably it,” Vegeta said and she laughed and swatted his shoulder.

“Then on all fours, bad man, that ass is too beautiful to pass up,” she knee walked over behind him and he obeyed her command.

She slapped his ass, once on each cheek, and it was a good attempt at a real blow. He smirked over his shoulder and purred, “You call that a slap, woman?”

She hit him harder and he put his ass out for her. She surprised him, biting each cheek, not hard enough to break skin, but not a gentle bite. He sucked air in through his teeth and she responded, biting him again.

Her slender fingers played across his pucker and she murmured, her mouth still on his skin, “I think I changed my mind, I want to prep you a little. Is that okay?”

“I told you, you’re in charge. Take it. Take what you want from me, woman,” Vegeta said.

She spread her other hand on his upper back and shoved him down. He could have resisted, of course, but he didn’t. He let her. His ass in the air like this felt so vulnerable that he panted. Vegeta remembered, if barely, the pleasure of being at someone else’s mercy, of trusting someone to care for him, and he again marveled that the perfect creature behind him would bother to do such a thing with him.

Two hesitant, slippery fingers touched his opening. She pressed inside him slowly. He moaned, surprised at how eager he was, the way he was opening for her like this, like it hadn’t been years since he’d been fucked. She slid them deeper and whispered, “Is…this…this is it?” She grazed his prostate.

“Yes,” he breathed, shivering at the gentle touch.

She said, “Do…how do I prep you?”

“Spread your fingers, fuck me with them a bit, but I’m ready. Don’t worry about me, this is for you,” Vegeta murmured, clutching the sheets as she fingered him harder, hitting his p-spot more confidently.

She nibbled on his ass as she pulled her fingers out of him. She said, “You’re so tight, it feels amazing, Vegeta. You ready for me to rail you, bad man? Ready for your punishment?”

Vegeta glanced over his shoulder and almost came seeing her dark little smirk, her hooded eyes, and the way she possessively gripped his ass with one hand, the base of the peg with the other. He said, “Let’s see if you can teach this Saiyan a lesson.”

The peg the woman chose looked nothing like a cock, it was pearly purple silicone, and smooth with a slight bulge on the end. It was significantly smaller than Raditz, but Vegeta was out of practice, so it was plenty as she eased the tip inside him. Vegeta groaned at the fullness, eager for her to go deeper, but wanting to let her run the show.

“Okay?”

“Better than that, woman,” Vegeta panted.

She plunged slowly until her hips hit his ass and he pushed back against her, unable to stop himself. Two weeks of fantasizing, not to mention the fantasizing over the past couple years, meant that he was at her mercy almost immediately. She started a slow, rolling rhythm and she gasped, “Whoa. Super hot to watch. Your ass is amazing, Vegeta.” She slapped his ass hard. 

Vegeta tried to control himself, not wanting to accidentally knock her over by bashing back into her with his desire. He decided maybe she was too nervous about hurting him, which was hilarious, to actually fuck him, so he growled, “Fuck me harder, Bulma, fuck me as hard as you can!”

He met her eyes over his shoulder. Her beautiful turquoise eyes went wide and a dazed smile lit her face. She smiled and slapped his ass again. “You have been naughty, bad man,” she purred and slammed into him with more force.

“Fuck, yes, gods, yes, Bulma! Harder!” he panted out as she thrust into him aggressively, slapping his ass frequently. He smelled her sweat and her arousal and her fertility and he moaned, letting himself pretend for the moment that she wanted him, really wanted him, wanted all of him.

The blissful pressure and heat of a prostate orgasm built in his belly as she moved inside him as hard and fast as she could. He pushed back toward her, taking every thrust with a breathy cry. The woman’s breathing was ragged and erratic and he could feel her flagging as she slammed into him again and again. He could come at any moment, but he wanted her to want it. 

She gripped his hips hard enough that her nails bit into his skin, and she gasped, “Fucking come for me! Come for me, Vegeta! Now!”

Vegeta cried out as she found some last dregs of strength and pummeled his prostate a few more times. He let himself go, reaching back to clutch her thighs and hold her deep inside him as his orgasm seized him. Her name spilled out of him over and over again as he splattered his belly and chest with cum.

She stayed up to the hilt inside him until the last shivers of his climax rippled through him. She withdrew and murmured, “Fuck that was hot, Vegeta. Might have to add that to our repertoire even when you haven’t been naughty.” She weakly smacked one cheek and bit the other, humming. “You okay?”

“Fuck, yes. That was incredible. Thank you, woman. I’ll be naughty more often if it will make you fuck me,” Vegeta said and flopped onto his side.

She chuckled and bent to kiss him. “Looks like we’re both pretty good at teaching each other lessons, huh?”

“Mmm…perhaps. I’m stubborn. Who knows how much repetition will be required until I learn?” Vegeta said, sliding his fingers into her silky hair as he pulled her into a kiss, grinning helplessly against her lips.

“Sometimes I think you don’t learn on purpose, just to keep me coming back. Sometimes I think you might like having me around,” she said.

Vegeta looked into her eyes. “It took you long enough to figure it out. And you call yourself a genius,” he teased, burying his foolish desire to tell her that he loved having her around. That he loved _her_ , that he wanted her around _forever_. Perhaps after she bore their child and he could prove his worth as a protector and father, then maybe she would be receptive to that possibility. Until then he would fuck her, get fucked by her, do anything she wanted, as long as she kept coming back to him.  



	19. Biology

Another month passed and still the woman said nothing to him though the chi inside her grew daily. He could already feel how strong his child would be. The woman was exhausted and more nights of only cuddling and sleeping together gave Vegeta hope, even if he also wanted to fuck her senseless constantly. He loved caring for her too. He’d taken to bringing her coffee in bed in the mornings, decaf, after reading that the effects of caffeine on in utero infants weren’t well understood. She complained about being tired whether she had caffeine or not, so he figured there was no harm.

As the first month after he scented her pregnancy came to a close, he began bringing her breakfast in bed too. She didn’t have the morning sickness that he had also read about the weakling humans having, but she felt better if she ate right away. The woman also gave him such sweet smiles and kisses and cuddles when he brought her food like that, that he thought he might just keep doing it, whether she was with child or not. It amazed him that such simple things brought her such pleasure. It also made him hate his predecessor even more.

The woman’s attitude changed, however, and that worried Vegeta. She became anxious and he often caught her staring at him contemplatively. He supposed she was trying to decide whether to ask him to be her protector. When he was feeling more prone to fantasy and optimism, he wondered if perhaps she was contemplating taking him as a mate. Undoubtedly she was waiting to discuss the pregnancy with him until she had made her decision.

The second month was almost through and her belly had rounded nicely, her breasts were fuller, but the words he wanted to hear didn’t come. He began to despair as her attitude became more distant and he now often caught her looking at him with some inscrutable expression. More than once she had elected to sleep in her own room, leaving Vegeta to panic his entire night away, never sleeping a moment.

After two nights in a row of sleeping in her own room, Vegeta approached her after dinner, intent on kissing and showing her his love and affection in a final desperate bid to prove his worthiness. She placed a hand on his chest to deflect him and said, “Vegeta…we need to talk.”

“Very well, woman. Would you like to talk here or elsewhere?” They were standing in the main kitchen and he hoped she would say they could stay, that it would be a minor disagreement. That perhaps she had discovered his coffee subterfuge.

“No…let’s…let’s go to your room.”

Vegeta didn’t like the sound of “your room” as it was “their room” over the past couple months. It didn’t bode well. Vegeta was startled how distressed the idea of Kakarot being his offspring’s protector made him. To the point that Vegeta was afraid he might have a melt-down. He breathed deeply as they walked toward _his_ room. 

He twined his fingers with hers and she stared at their hands for a moment. He swallowed hard. She looked as though it might be the last time she saw such a sight. Vegeta blinked away tears, determined to hold on until the last on the off chance he had misread her mood and decision.

Once they were in his room, she flopped on her back on his bed, crossing her feet at the ankles. She wore a dress that was unusual for her in that it didn’t hug all her lovely curves. It tucked in under her ripe, perfect breasts, then flared out in a soft billow down to the middle of her thighs.

“Vegeta…I…Fuck. Look. I don’t know how this happened. I’ve been on the pill for forever and I guess maybe I should have talked to ChiChi, but she can be such a prude, so I just…I guess…I guess I just didn't use condoms even though you were a space-slut—“

“What?! Condoms? Space-slut? Why…I thought…Didn’t you say that word is a pejorative?”

“Well, yes, but…um, not…not always. Don’t sidetrack me with your alien bullshit,” the woman said with a shaky breath.

“Sidetrack you from what?” Vegeta said, his stomach turning to anxious fire as he waited for her verdict.

“So…it seems that the pill failed.”

“What pill? What are you talking about?”

“My birth control pills.”

“I…” Vegeta stopped to digest what she’d said. “You were taking some sort of prophylactic?” His stomach twisted and burned and ached. This was not a possibility he had even considered. “You didn’t wish to become pregnant? What…why…why did you do what you did, then?” Vegeta blinked at her. Why had she come to him in heat, eager to be bred, wanting sex after ignoring him for years, if not to become pregnant? 

Vegeta stared, almost stunned into complete silence. Every thought in his mind had been based around that simple belief: the woman had wanted him to put a baby in her belly. If that wasn’t the case, Vegeta felt…adrift. Would she abort? Why had she waited so long? It was easier to force the miscarriage earlier and would only become more difficult the longer she waited. Why had she tormented him with her heat? Why did she come to him then and only then?

The woman stammered, “Wait, you sound like you _know_ I’m pregnant?! What do _you_ mean? What did I do?”

“You came to me to be bred, yes?” Vegeta said, warily sitting next to her on the bed.

She sat bolt upright and glared at him. “To be fucking _bred_? What am I, livestock? You fucking asshole! Did you _mean_ to knock me up? You did it on purpose?! How long have you known?”

Vegeta’s eyebrows shot up in bewilderment. He had no idea what was occurring. He loved the woman and wanted to give her a strong child. He thought that was the only reason she had sex with him to begin with and that upon discovering his sexual prowess, she decided to allow him to continue fucking her. He couldn’t interpret her anger now, or her meaning. He shook his head and said, “But…I…well…if…if you were taking a prophylactic…how? I knew months ago when I first felt the baby's chi, I assumed you did too! I…Bulma…” He had almost never used her name outside the throes of ecstasy, but he hoped it would soften her demeanor toward him.

“Did you _breed_ me on _purpose_!?” she shrieked.

Vegeta, seeing and hearing and feeling her rage and her hatred, wanted the answer to be no. He wished that he _hadn’t_ meant to impregnate her now that he saw how unhappy he'd made her. Vegeta’s heart thundered. He was a shit liar under the best circumstances. He searched her eyes. “Did…did…did you not…not…not intend for that to happen?” Vegeta said in a choked voice, “You…why…why did you come to me when you did?”

“You stupid, arrogant, mother-fucking piece of alien trash!” the woman shouted and shoved herself up off their bed. No. His bed. “I cannot fucking _believe_ you got me pregnant on purpose. Bred! Bred, like a fucking pedigreed _bitch_. Oh my fucking gods. Oh my gods. I’m…I’m so young. And you’re you, so I’ll be on my own, fuck. Fuck. Fuck.” The woman paced, running a hand through her hair.

The words “on my own” were like a dagger to the tiny, soft bit of soul that Vegeta had left. The only part of himself that remained capable of love bled out and died as those words stabbed the remnant of his soul over and over. He watched her and felt how she hated him for this thing he did because he thought she wanted it.

“Why don’t you just abort it if…if…if it was…a…a…an error?” Vegeta said, the last word almost sending his tears spilling out of him.

“Oh, yeah, you cry. Fucking perfect. Like it even _effects_ you. How can you tell me to get an abortion in such a blasé tone? You fucking _jerk_!” she snarled and crossed her arms above her belly.

Vegeta didn’t know if he was misunderstanding her language again or if there was some fundamental difference in biology at play. Vegeta said warily, “When you say _get_ an ‘abortion,’ what do you mean? Why do you not just abort it yourself?”

“So I should just coat-hanger myself in the closet? Fucking hell, Vegeta, what other women have you _bred_ that that even crosses your mind!?” The woman’s eyes were pure hate as they landed on his.

Vegeta cringed internally, but held himself upright, trying to have some pride despite the death of his soul, the aching hollowness in his chest that this was her response to their child together. 

Vegeta didn’t know what ‘coat-hangering’ was, but he supposed he could finish their conversation before he left. He knew what a hanger was, and an unpleasant possibility came to mind when she mentioned that as a means for aborting a fetus. “Saiyans that lost a protector or mate early in a pregnancy often chose to abort. It was easier on their body earlier in the pregnancy. A few hours spent in the bathroom and that was the end of it. There was no…equipment…involved, and no hangers anywhere… Do…can…can humans…not?” Vegeta asked, trying not to set her off again.

“What?! Saiyans…Saiyans can just…decide…to miscarry?”

“They have spontaneous miscarriage as well, but if circumstances change or the baby was conceived in…error…yes, they simply abort. You…humans…humans can’t do this?”

“No, Vegeta, humans cannot fucking do that. I have to go to a clinic and they have to scrape it out of me. Which is still on the table. I just don’t _know_ what to fucking do. Fuck. This is a shitty situation to have a baby. Maybe I should just have an abortion.”

Vegeta didn't know what to say. He wanted the woman to be happy. Beyond that, he had no specific goals. “You don’t want to have my baby, I take it, from your…outburst?” Vegeta said, making his voice flat and affectless in an attempt to avoid crying.

She narrowed her eyes at him. “I don’t know, Vegeta. I didn’t intend to have a baby at all!”

“Well why the fuck did you come to me eager for sex, looking at me naked like you wanted to eat me alive when you were in godsdamned heat!? I just assumed. I obviously made an enormous error in judgement, but that is how it’s done amongst Saiyans! A female in heat doesn’t approach a male and fuck him and then get angry when she becomes pregnant! That is the only possible outcome of fucking while you're in heat! So why did you do that? How was I to know you didn’t wish to be impregnated? You didn't even tell me to pull out! I assumed you wanted a strong son, like Gohan, that you maybe didn’t care for me, but could at least see the merits of my genes!”

The woman snarled, “You _knew_ I was in _heat_?”

Vegeta was so taken aback, again, that he almost burst out laughing. “My olfaction is far superior to human’s, so of _course_ I knew you were in heat. I have hard time believing that the weakling can’t even smell when you’re in heat! You didn't answer my question—why didn’t you at least tell me to pull out if you were just horny from your heat and had no wish to bear my offspring?” Vegeta crossed his arms tightly. On top of his broken heart that she didn’t care for him even enough to want to be bred, he was surprisingly upset that he wouldn’t get to have a child. Vegeta was over thirty and might well die in battle within the year, he had hoped to at least leave an heir. Like fucking _Kakarot_ would leave an heir.

The woman stared at him and screamed. Vegeta covered his ears and winced. “Stop that! Stop it! What the _fuck_ , Bulma!?” Vegeta shouted.

She heaved for breath. “I knew I never should have gotten involved with you! It is fucking _maddening_ to speak with you half the time. It's like we speak the same words, but they don’t mean the same things! Fucking ridiculous! I can’t believe you knew I was _in heat_. I didn’t even know I _had_ heats.”

Vegeta gaped and spluttered, “W-w-what? You… _you_ don’t even know when you’re fertile? But…but…but that just…that’s absurd! And I try my best with this infernal fucking planet and it’s myriad languages. If I’m so fucking _maddening_ , I’ll fucking go!”

Vegeta chose then to not care. She would abort it and he would move on with his life. He didn’t need to stay and do anything for this worthless fucking planet with its genitalia-linked colors and its shame about bodily functions and his heat-hounding, hateful, but beautiful and intelligent and wonderful and kind blue-haired woman. He hated Earth and it was time to go. Time to go and never look back. 

He darted around the room gathering a few things at a speed she likely wouldn’t see. He had heard the woman and her father discussing the spaceship being operational except for a few systems checks that needed doing.

He paused on the balcony. Her beautiful turquoise eyes searched for a moment before finding him. His tears at last broke free, fully free, and he hissed, “And fuck you! Fuck you for fucking dissecting me! For fucking prying the worst thing in my whole fucking life out of me and then…then…just…just for nothing! You broke me open and tore out my insides for _nothing_! Fuck you for tearing open all my wounds just to do this! Just to, just to, just to hate me for doing what I thought was what _you_ wanted! Fuck _you_ and your godsdamned ridiculous species with its…its…its shitty olfaction and its…its…its completely arbitrary rules about everything! _You_ were the only reason I found this planet bearable! Only you. So fuck you, Bulma. Go get your fucking coat-hanger or whatever it is you wish to do and be completely free from me since I’m so fucking _maddening_! You must’ve gotten bored with your Saiyan cock project. Go find a new fucking project!”

Vegeta rocketed to the ship though he heard her screaming something behind him. He couldn’t bear to look at her again. He couldn’t hear any more disgust and disdain about bearing his child. He couldn’t look in those beautiful eyes and see hatred and rage and distrust.

Vegeta readied the overly complicated, primitive ship, checked to make sure no one was in the vicinity, and primed the engine. After only a few moments, it was ready. He yanked the throttle and hauled ass at an angle to escape the atmosphere. He didn't know where he would go. He didn’t care. There was nothing left for him in the entire fucking universe. Perhaps he would fly to the void of interstellar space if the Earth tech could make it, and he would simply step into the airlock and open the door. He should have done so long ago and saved everyone a lot of trouble.


End file.
